


What Love?

by FinduilasLissesul



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Smut, a bit I think?, a few other characters, only minor gerita
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 06:43:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4009840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FinduilasLissesul/pseuds/FinduilasLissesul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>France and England have had a thing going on for quite a while, but never talked to each other about it and tried not to think about it.<br/>However, their thoughts keep nagging them and somehow they end up as niether of them could have foreseen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The morning after

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be posting six chapters with a few days inbetween, it depends on how long I'm willing to wait.  
> This is my first major fic, although the first chapter's a bit short, and I don't know how it turned out, but I still hope some of you will enjoy it :) Please let me know if you do and what you liked. Comments are always welcome.

The sun was shining bright through the window on his right, falling upon the tumbled sheets lying on the bed. The hotel room was in total silence, but if you listened closely, you could still hear the busy sounds coming from the streets a few floors down. Sunlight was not the only thing that came through the window; the smells from the different restaurants below and the exhaust from the vehicles cruising the roads were also steaming in.

  
     France stretched before he tucked himself further in to the sheets, ignored his pounding head, and tried to remember what happened last night, and where he was. He was in Beijing. There had been a world meeting the day before, and after that, he and England had gone out for a drink, and … things had happened.

  
     He blinked a few times, opened his eyes, and turned around in suspense, to see if there was anyone still lying beside him. There wasn’t. He was alone. He traced his hand over the empty space to his right. It was still warm. France felt his heart drop and let out a sigh. Why did they keep doing this? The whole thing had started some months ago, after a meeting in … Rome? Or was it Bern? He wasn’t sure. And neither did it matter. They had gone for a drink that night and gotten tremendously drunk, both of them. One thing had led to another and in the end, they wound up together in the bed at England’s hotel room. When he woke up that morning, he panicked and left before England even began to stir. He thought it would be a one-time thing, but it had continued. After every meeting where they were both present, they would do the same and wake up in either of their hotel rooms. The one who woke up first, left. And neither of them would mention it the next time they met. Or ever, actually.

  
     France sighed again and buried his face in the crook of his arm. He asked himself the question that was on his mind after every time they did this; _why do we keep doing this_? And by that he meant several things. Why do I do this, only to go through the same pain every morning when I wake up alone? Why do I want him so badly when he probably think nothing of it? Why do I walk out the door every time I wake up first? Why did I panic that first time and ran away? That last one he knew the answer to. He had been too afraid to face England, afraid of how he might react. They hadn’t actually been on the best of terms throughout history. France just wished they could talk about this. He knew he kept getting hurt, but the benefits were so pleasurable. They outweighed the losses. Thinking back on the things he could remember from last night, France let a big smile cover his face. England had been so attractive. So rough at the beginning. Drunk, hot, and daring, but after a while, forgetting himself and completely lost it in pleasure. Pleasure France made him feel. He remembered how they touched each other. How England made him feel so good. His hands on his sides, his hips, and further down. Their bodies pressed close together. There hadn’t been much kissing. At least not on the lips. France dared not do it. At the same time he wanted this thing to both end and last, he was also terrified that England would end it for him. That’s why he didn’t want to get too close and scare him off. He had longed for this far too long. But even now he wanted more. To share kisses and doing normal things together every day like a couple. He had realized that that was never going to happen, because England couldn’t possibly love him back.

  
     France inhaled sharply. That was it. He had just now realized it. He loved England. He really did. How had it come to this? France just lay there for a few minutes, completely chocked over the revelation. Then he shook it off.

  
     Holding on to the good memories, France dragged himself off bed and walked towards the tiny bathroom. The hotel room itself wasn’t of great size, but it served his needs. He reeked of alcohol, sweat, and sex. A shower was needed.


	2. A stroll through the streets.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> England decides to kill some time before his plane leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter!

England stepped out of the shower in his own hotel room. He dried himself with a towel placed on a chair next to the toilet. His flight back home to London left in about four hours. That meant he had about an hour and a half before he had to take a taxi to the airport. He liked having plenty of time, and not rushing. All the paperwork and deadlines that awaited him back in London weren’t particularly what he wanted to come home to.

  
     His mind drifted off to last night. His cheeks flushed only by the thought of it. France hovering over him, touching him, placing kisses all over his neck and torso. The feeling of him inside him. He was fucked so hard last night. His lower back still hurt. But it was a good pain. Looking up, and seeing himself in the mirror, he caught a smile on his face. Then he frowned, and turned away. What the hell was he thinking? Why did that frog make him smile like this? It wasn’t like France cared for him. He probably just saw this as a victory over England. That had to be the only reason why he continued doing this, because France could have almost anyone he wanted. And England still went through with it. Every time. Even though he made sure he was drunk before going with him. France had to believe that England only did this for a good fuck. If that actually worked, he had to be awfully flattered by now. That was why he left every morning too. He couldn’t let France think that he enjoyed this and wanted to be with him. That smug bastard probably bragged to Spain and Prussia about this after every time. France didn’t even talk to him about it, but he was sure he had no trouble telling his friends. Still. It was unusual for France not to tease him about it. He would have thought that France wouldn’t have shut up about it, just to embarrass him.

  
     Trying not to think about it, England quickly dressed. He didn’t put on a suit today. He was only going to travel, and sitting on a plane in a tight suit wasn’t something he wanted to experience today. It was late summer, and being in Beijing, a place much warmer than his home, a suit would not be the ideal thing to wear. That’s why he put on some loose jeans, a t-shirt, and a black leather jacket. This rather counted as a day off, so he was allowed to show a bit of his punk. His suit from the previous day was wrinkled and smelled of booze. With further examination, he could see the shirt was missing a button. It was probably from when France tore it off him last night. He had been so eager to get to it. Shite. Why was he thinking about him? In anger he threw the dirty suit in his suitcase, together with some notes and important documents, smacked it shut, and placed it on the bed. He hadn’t even used it. Sometimes he wondered why France and he just didn’t bother to share a hotel room, but then he remembered. They hated each other.

  
     England sighed. He still had plenty of time before he had to leave. Might as well go take a look around the city. He left his suitcase in the hotel room; he could come back for it later, and exited through the hallway. After locking the door, he turned to his left, and proceeded to the lift at the end of the corridor. He pushed the button while he placed the key in his pocket with his phone and wallet. Waiting for the lift to come down, his eyes examined the place. The hotel was quite old, as almost everything in this part of town. And he had to admit that the hygiene wasn’t on top either, compared to most European standards. Some places, the wallpaper had started to floss, and he could eye some water damage. Neither were there any windows in the corridor, but then he guessed, that couldn’t be helped; the building was crammed between two others just like it, and the only view were reserved the rooms. Not that it was much to look at. Only the street below, filled with stalls, which sold just about everything.

  
     England heard a loud “ _pling_ ”, which was followed by the opening of the doors in to the lift. He entered, pushed the button for the ground floor, and placed himself by the closest wall. He turned to look at the one other person in the lift, and froze. It was France. Shite.

     Apparently, he had gotten dressed as well, and were heading out. With a suitcase in his hand, he was most likely going to the airport right away. He wore a sky blue shirt with an open collar and grey trousers. England caught himself thinking France looked awfully handsome in that shirt. It matched his eyes. He shook that thought off his mind. He shouldn’t think like that. France looked back at him with a look just as surprised as England’s on his face. It didn’t seem as he had counted on encountering the other either. But this was only for a second. The dumbfounded expression was soon replaced by a smug grin as always. Then he shifted his gaze to the door. Without looking at England, he talked.

  
     “ _Bonjour_ , _Angleterre_. You seem to have some time off before your plane leaves too, _non_?”

  
     “Good morning, France, and yes, I do. I was just heading out to take a stroll down the street or something. How about you?” The whole atmosphere around them was awkward. They were trying to pretend that they hadn’t spent the night in each other’s company.

  
     “Same as you. When we travel half of the world only for a meeting, we might as well take a look around. You know, see new places and just admire the beauty in it all. Not that the two of us haven’t done our fair share of that, _non_? And – oh.” France stared at England’s neck, with a strange look on his face and his voice grew suddenly meek. “Err… I- … I think you might want to wear something with a higher collar, _Angleterre_.”

  
     “Huh? What is it?” England turned around and twisted his head, so that he could get a proper look at his neck in the small mirror installed on one of the walls in the lift. He went silent as he discovered a love-bite in plain sight on the left side of his neck. He let out a silent whisper to himself.

  
     “Just bloody perfect…” He hadn’t packed any other clothes, so he just pulled the leather jacket further up, but you could still see the mark. France’s cheeks had reddened, and he looked another way. England flushed as well, and stared in the opposite direction, so none of them had a chance to see the other’s reaction.

  
     Just then, the lift stopped at the second floor, and a small family boarded. One of the kids eagerly pressed the button with the symbol for the ground floor. There was some quiet chatter among the family, and the two nations remained silent. Soon after, the light over the doors to the lift showed that they had reached the bottom.

  
     The two kids from the little family eagerly ran towards the front door, and their parents followed, smiling at each other at the children’s behaviour. England walked after them, and France trailed by his side, looking at the happy family.

  
     “Almost makes a nation jealous, doesn’t it? To have a family, someone you belong with, and with whom you can share everything. Someone to be happy with. The beauty of a mortal life is quite stunning.”

  
     “Just because we live a different life than them, doesn’t mean we can’t be happy. As a nation, we have a duty, but we can always find joy in the small things. Being a nation makes you see the world from another perspective than normal people, and we get to experience things that no one else does. That's a fact we have to appreciate.”

  
     “ _Oui_ , I guess you are right, _Angleterre_. But still, the company I get as a nation could be a lot better.” France grinned and looked over at his neighbour.

  
     “Hah! Don’t believe for a second that I enjoy your presence either, frog.”

  
     They had walked out on the street, and continued down it. There were many stalls, and everyone was talking over each other, chatting on Chinese, trying to sell their products. The two nations didn’t comment on the fact that they now walked beside the other, even though both of them had originally intended to go off alone. They past a lot of weird objects, and occasionally they stopped for a peek. 

  
     “So. The meeting yesterday. About that conflict in Africa. Turns we don’t really have much we should have said, do we?” France started the conversation while looking at some Chinese fans laid out on a small table. England jerked his head up towards where France was standing by his right. He had been lost in thought for a moment. Thoughts definitely not including France.

  
     “Hm? No. No, we don’t.” He sighed. “We are never going to be able to work this out. How could we possibly with everyone hating each other and disagreeing just to disagree? America is a stubborn child, he does as he wants, which often isn’t the right way to do things. Also he wants to be the hero, and holds a grudge against Russia. Russia himself wants to secure his own interests in the country and cares very little for other things, China is siding with Russia, and when the five of us are the only ones who have the right of veto, things get bloody complicated.”

  
     “Ah, _oui_. However, our interests are not the biggest; that country wasn’t a colony of either of us, so we don’t have much to gain. Beside the pleasure of peace, and people not killing each other, of course. That is enough. But then again, everyone wants peace. Except the ones selling weapons – obviously – but that’s beside the point. We all want the same thing, but disagree too much on the methods, and are too busy fighting a silent war with each other through politics, to do something about it. It was much better back in the old times, _non_?” France smirked. They had proceeded further away from the cheap hotel, and now the stalls contained mainly food and clothes. England huffed.

  
     “You mean when _we_ basically ruled the world? I’m sort of relieved we’re not the ones who have to make all the decisions anymore. At least not alone. But I have to admit; even though we had a hard time and there was a lot of work to do, it was fun. And I didn’t have to cooperate with people whom I despise, to make a solution. I managed alone.”

  
     “Heheh… true. But I can see why people hate us now. We were not very kind exactly. We all made some mistakes in our hunt for treasures and valuables. The two of us more than most.”

  
     “Well, I don’t disagree completely, but some of our former colonies are really picking it up, just because we gave them a head start.”

  
     “ _Angleterre_. If it weren’t for us, they wouldn’t have needed a head start.”

  
     “Argh. When I have conversations with you, I always remember why everyone hates us. And why we hate each other. It’s a miracle anyone can even stand us. Anyway, I believe I have to leave now to catch my plane. See you in Europe, frog!”

  
     With that, he took off and merged with the crowd within seconds.  



	3. A fear of flights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy :)

France watched England disappear among all the people crowding the street. He wasn’t able to reply before he was gone. The last words he said still echoed through his head. Looking down at his watch, he noticed how fast the time had passed. He should get going too, if he wanted to get home on his plane. It would leave around the middle of the day and the flight itself would take around ten hours, but because of the time zones, he would arrive in the evening back in Europe. First, he was going to Amsterdam, and then home to Paris. Because he has already packed and was carrying the suitcase with him, he didn’t have to go back to the hotel, so he put a hand out in the traffic, as a signal. Not long after a cab stopped, and he got on.

  
     The slow ride to the airport started. France was occupied in the backseat with his thoughts. He wondered what he was supposed to do with his new discovery this morning. When did it even happen? How did he manage to fall in love with _him_? That despicable, stubborn, adorable, witty, horrible person. He wasn’t certain on what to should do. He could just ignore it and be happy with what they had, or he could say something. France sighed. His thoughts wandered back to England today. When he first had seen him in the lift. How sexy he looked dressed like that. And that love-bite. Oh, how he would have liked the other nations to see that. That would have been so entertaining. He couldn’t imagine any of them believing England was getting laid. Or did they know? No, they couldn’t possibly know. They had been very careful, and the only reason why France was, was the risk of England ending it if someone ever found out. France smirked to himself in the back of the cab. How fun it would have been to show everyone that the two of them were sleeping together. England would be so embarrassed, and possibly very adorable.

  
     After about an hour of sitting put in a hot car while driving through very crowded streets with a lot of noise, France finally arrived at the airport. He paid the driver and brought his suitcase with him in to the building. Once more, he was thankful for not packing much, so he could just bring the case with him as hand baggage. He knew some of the other nations did this as well. When it was only for a day, not much was necessary, and it made things a lot easier. Of course, there was only room for a change of clothes together with some documents and notes, but they hardly had the need of anything else.

  
     The airport was a total mess. There was excessively many people, and everyone walked back and forth in all directions. He had to hold on to his belongings and carefully mind his wallet: places like this were full of pickpockets. If he was robbed here now, he was having a serious conversation with China the next time he saw him. How could he let everything become like this?

  
     France took a deep breath and began on his way to the check-in. After a bit of waiting, he got his ticket and proceeded to place himself in the line for the security check. He smiled seductively to the young Chinese guard who was on the post. The guard reddened and looked in another direction. They didn’t stop him regarding anything in his suitcase, so he went through the tax-free shop. He wasn’t supposed to buy anything; his president had cut down on his “allowance”, so he couldn’t exactly throw his money around. But the thing was; France was a bit scared of flying. Alright, maybe terrified would be more correct. Sure, he travelled through the air a lot during his work, but that didn’t change anything. He was just as scared every time. And that’s why he decided to treat himself to some kind of alcoholic beverage, and bought a bottle of wine on his way in.

  
     France went down the long hallway, looking for his boarding hall. Finally, at the very end of course, he found it. There were a few rows with seats, about half of them taken. He sat down in one and glanced at his watch. Still an hour until the boarding started. Looking back up again, something caught his attention. Sitting in the seat opposite of his, was a blond man in a leather jacket sleeping, with his arm crossed, but a peaceful look on his face. France blinked twice and leaned closer to get a better look. It was definitely England seated there. He grinned, and proceeded to switch seats, so he sat at England’s right. Leaning back and making himself comfortable, he then softly moved the arm England was lying his weight on, so that his head touched down on France’s left shoulder. Pleased with himself, and enjoying the feeling of England’s head so close to his, he turned around and kissed him on the top of his head. England stirred slightly but didn’t wake up. France let out a breath he didn’t even know he had held. He settled down and searched his suitcase for a book he had brought with him. It was _The Count of Monte Cristo_. It had to be his fourth time reading it, he thought. It was very well written, although it was more chaotic and had a different setting than _The Three Musketeers_ , it was highly enjoyable.

  
     After fifteen minutes of silent reading with his fellow nation resting his head on his shoulder, the one sleeping began to wake up. He slowly raised his head, and with eyes still shut, he stretched, then he looked up. France, sensing what was about to happen, put away his book. When England saw France he jerked as he let out a little scream.

  
     “Bloody hell, mate! What the fuck are you doing here?!” He had stood up and looked absolutely furious with his red face and shooting eyes.

  
     “Relax, _Mon Cher_. Please sit back down, you’re upsetting the other travellers.” England slowly sat down.

  
     “Now will you tell me what the hell you’re doing here?”

  
     “I could ask you the same question. This is my flight back to Europe. I thought you were supposed to take an earlier one, _non_?”

  
     “Yes, I _was_. Then I got stuck in traffic for half an hour, so I had to take this one instead. Say, is that wine you have there?” England looked sceptically towards France’s shopping bag.

  
     “Ehh… _oui_ , it is. One have to buy what one can when it’s cheap, don’t you agree? I am saving it for when I get home. Ah, but I see you have done some shopping too.” France referred to some bags by England’s side, filled with a wide range of liquids.

  
     “Well, obviously I weren’t planning on drinking them _now_. I just wanted to try some of China’s drinks. Like you said, to experience new places and stuff.”

  
     “Aha, it that whiskey I see there?”

  
     “Shut up.”

  
     “You never change, _cheri_. Ah, it looks like we’re staring boarding. Which seat do you have?”

  
     “I don’t have any, I get one if someone doesn’t show up for theirs.”

  
     “Very well, then. I will see you on the plane if you’re lucky.” France winked to him and resisted the urge to peck him on the cheek, as he went to the queue by the desk with his ticket ready. After a bit of waiting, he got past and went down the small corridor to the plane. There he got on-board and found his seat. He placed his suitcase in the room above the row, and sat down. He was seated near the middle of the plane, on the seat by the window. His stomach did a horrid twist. He could feel the fear starting to get to him already. That’s why he popped open the bottle of wine with shaking hands, and took a quick sip out of it. This was going to be a long flight, so he might as well get started. He should’ve bought more, he realised. A tiny bottle wasn’t enough to get him as drunk as he wanted. Maybe he should ask England for some alcohol? He certainly had more than enough. Then a voice broke his train of thoughts.

  
     “ _Saving it for when I get home_ , yeah, right.” England stood in the mid-lane, looking resigned as he stared at France. He too stuffed his suitcase in the space above the seats, and then sat down to France’s left.

  
     “Don’t tell me I’ll be spending ten hours with you on a plane.”

  
     “Ten and a half, actually.”

  
     “Oh, shut it. This is just great. I certainly hope you weren’t planning on drinking all of that, ‘cause this is bad enough with a sober you.”

  
     “As a matter of fact, I did. And I’m still going to. By the way, do you think I could have some of yours too?”

  
     “I beg your pardon? You, France, are not getting drunk on a ten hour flight with me!” England grabbed after his bottle, but France fought him off.

  
     “Oh, yes, I am. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to stand it.”

  
     “Excuse me?!” England stopped grabbing at the wine and looked at him with hostile, and a bit hurt, eyes. France sighed and leaned back in the seat. He put the bottle away. After some time, he hesitantly spoke up.

  
     “I-I’m afraid of flying. Please, don’t tell anyone. I need something to calm me down, and right now, alcohol is the only thing I’ve got.” 

  
     “Seriously? You’re afraid of flying?”

  
     “ _Oui_ , why not rub it in. I do not trust the plane. This technology. It could crash anytime. Now don’t make fun of me, and give me some whiskey.”

  
     “I won’t make fun of you. At least not now. But I sure as hell am not going to give you whiskey, or anything else for that matter.”

  
     “England, stop talking _non-sens_. That is the only way for me to stay calm, and my wine is not enough.”

  
     “Hmpf. After my experience, you only get more … restless, when drunk. You’re not getting any, and that’s final.”

  
     “Fine, then I’ll just order some when the stewardess comes around.” France put up a pout.

  
     “No. You’re doing no such thing. This was the only seat available, and I’m not waiting for the next plane, so I’ll be seated next to you for ten hours, and I will not have you drunk all that time!”

  
     “You can’t tell me what to do!” France and England were ready to strangle each other, when they heard the engine start and screens popped down in front of them. France immediately sat back and breathed slowly out as he fastened his seatbelt. He clutched the armrest and stared forward at the woman demonstrating how to behave under an emergency. He barely noticed England curiously watching him from the corner of his eye. While the woman talked, the plane rolled forth to the runway for take-off. When she was done explaining, she went into the cockpit, and the plane began building up speed.

  
     France shut his eyes tight and braced his body. He really hated this. His heat pounded loudly and threatened to break free from his rib cage. He waited in anticipation for the lift-off. As they felt the wheels take off, France grabbed a hold of England’s hand and squeezed tight.

  
     “Hey! What are you –!” England went quiet. Probably because he saw what France looked like. Terrified.

  
     They held hands until the plane flattened out, and the sign that said to wear your belt turned off. Then France let go and opened his eyes, but still he sat stiff and tense, staring into nothing.

  
     “You really are scared, aren’t you?” England looked at him.

  
     “Do you think I would be lying about this?” England ignored him.

  
     “You just have to relax. Think about something else. Try to sleep.”

  
      “How could I _possible_ be able to relax or sleep under these circumstances?!” He turned to look him angrily in the eyes.

  
     “If you would just let me have some alcohol, I would be fine!”

  
     “No, that’s out of the question. Just try to sleep, then I won’t be bothered with you.”

  
     “To sleep I have to relax, and I can’t fucking relax on a plane!” The mixture of fear and anger bubbled up in him, and he was shouting. England grabbed the pillow conveniently placed in the back of the seat in front of him.

  
     “ _Try_ to anyway, or I’ll strangle you with this pillow to make you quiet.”

  
     “Well, you’re not helping!” France shouted, but still jerked the pillow out of his grasp. He placed it on the wall to his right, and laid his head down on it. The noise the plane made, were very audible like this, and when he opened his eyes, he could see the contours of the landscape below. He swallowed.

  
     “ _Angleterre_. Would you mind trading seats?” He looked up with a pleading look. England sighed.

  
     “Why?”

  
     “… _parce que_ it feels like I’m going to fall out of the plane, and I can feel the engine shaking it. Now, _sil vous plait_ , will you switch seats?”

  
     “Alright, fine. If you would just go to sleep or at least keep quiet.” They stood up and crammed themselves past each other. Had it been at another time and place, France would have made a sneaky comment, but right now, he didn’t say a thing. England sat down and picked up a book he had brought with him. When France caught a peek of the cover, he could see he was reading _Robinson Crusoe_.

  
     France sat back in his new seat, trying to do what England had suggested: to sleep. But he just couldn’t do it. He was too tense, sat stiff like a rod and had difficulties finding the right spot for the pillow. Neither was he really tired.

  
     “Argh! I can’t do this!”

  
     “Then try to read.” England replied coldly.

  
     “Fine! I’ll read about my _count of Monte Cristo_ , and try to _relax_.” The last word he put extra pressure on, to make sure England understood that he thought this was a bad idea, and that the alcohol would’ve worked much better. Hopefully he would understand sarcasm, ‘cause it didn’t seem like anything else was working. England just continued staring at his book, ignoring the French nation. France sighed and began reading his own book.

  
     After half an hour, France still hadn’t calmed down, and the words on the pages didn’t make much sense anymore. On top of that, there was a kid behind him, who kept bumping into his seat every time he moved. Looking to his right he could see England still engrossed with his literature. He was quite beautiful like that. The light from the window hit him just right and lightened his features. He was wearing a pair of reading-glasses and had a relaxed expression on his face.  Then France got an idea. He grinned slightly to himself before speaking up.

  
     “You know, England, this isn’t helping. I need something else.”

  
     “This is the last time: I’m not giving you whiskey!” He didn’t even look up.

  
     “Oh, that’s not what I meant. I was just thinking; there is a lot of _other_ things you could do to help me.” Hesitantly, England glanced upwards to meet his eyes.

  
     “France, I swear, if you –“

  
     “Oh, please, England, get you mind out of the gutter.” France grinned smugly. This was exactly how he had hoped England would react. “I was simply wondering if you would be so kind as to massage my shoulders for a bit.” He smiled. “Just till the tenseness wears off, _oui_?”

  
     “I’d rather not.”

  
     Just then, the plane hit some turbulence and shook with great force. France had supported himself on the armrest, but due to the disturbance, he fell off and almost hit his jaw where his arm had been only seconds earlier. With wide, pleading, scared eyes, he looked up.

  
     “ _Sil vous plait_?” England closed his eyes and sighed deeply, lowering his shoulders.

  
     “Fine. But don’t expect any favours from me later, and you owe me for this.”

  
     “ _Oui, oui, merci beaucoup, Angleterre_!” France smiled relieved, and proceeded to put up the armrest between them and turned around, so his back was now facing England. The other nation was still hesitating. He put his book down and drew one leg up into the seat, so he sat with his back against the wall. France looked over his shoulder to see what was taking so long and found England slightly blushing and at loss over what to do. France looked back again and pretended he hadn’t noticed. Instead he spoke.  
     “Please, _Angleterre_.”

  
     “Yes, yes, quit nagging! I’m getting to it.” Then he placed his hands gently on the pair of shoulders in front of him. Brushing away some locks of hair, he started massaging. He could feel how hard his shoulders were as well as the muscles underneath the skin.

  
     “Wow, you really are tense. France?” The only thing that escaped the French were groans of pleasure, and he had closed his eyes. England’s hands were gripping his shoulders and steady rubbing the tenseness away.

  
     “Hmm, _oui_? Please don’t stop, this is absolutely terrific.”

  
     “France, bloody hell, you need to lower your shoulders, I can’t do it like this.” France obliged, and then he could feel the true powers of his neighbour’s hands, and a tingly sensation rushing through him. The moans he then began producing caught the eyes of many other passengers, but he didn’t even notice. Neither would he have cared.

  
     “Hey, France, keep it down, will you?”

  
     “Mhm…” He started dozing off and sunk steadily backwards into England’s lap. His back was soon resting on England’s chest, and he could feel his heartbeat and his chest moving as he breathed. The hands had stopped massaging him, and were instead playing gently with his hair. To all of this he fell asleep with a content smile on his mouth.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's in the manga that France doesn't like technology and I thought that then it would be logical for him to be afraid of planes ;P Anyway, please let me know what you think.


	4. England’s rigours .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> England does his best to cope.

England studied France lying there between his legs sound asleep. His head weighed down on his chest, right over the location of his heart. He hoped France couldn’t hear how fast it beat. He let France’s hair run between his fingers, as soft as silk. He never would’ve guessed France was scared of flying. Sure, he knew he didn’t like technology, but nonetheless. It was very bad luck to be stuck beside him for ten hours. But truth was that he didn’t really mind. And as he looked at his current situation, he minded even less. Why that was, never crossed his mind. France was beautiful like this, actually, he always was. And he was charming, thoughtful, caring and always ready to challenge him intellectual and in other ways. His rival and forever adversary lied asleep between his legs and here he was, thinking these … strange thoughts about him. Without even thinking, he leaned down and kissed France on top of his head. Then he pulled out his book again and continued reading about the lonely shipwrecked adventurer.

  
     After a while, he must have fallen asleep, because he found himself dreaming about a single island in the midst of the ocean, where he was struggling to survive an attack from the natives. Fortunately, there was someone else there. He couldn’t quite make out who he was, but he knew there was something familiar with him. And they helped each other survive.

  
     Then he woke up. He thought he could feel the ghost of a kiss on his lips, but he shook the feeling off. Looking down he could see France lying on top of him still, but this time he had changed position, so they were lying facing each other. His arms were wrapped around England and hugging him tight. England didn’t know if France was sleeping or not and if the current position was intended, so he didn’t dare touch him in some way he knew he would be made fun of later. Still he wanted to. Only to stroke him down his back or put his hand in his hair, do something, hug him back. His heart was already pounding fast from how he was hugged. By France. Shite, he could feel a warmth in his cheeks, and knew he was blushing. Why was he behaving like this? Hell if he knew. Trying to ignore all of this, he looked at the watch on his wrist. They had been sleeping for nine hours. Seriously? Had it been so long? Including the first hour on the plane, it was ten hours. That meant it was only half an hour left. He figured he might as well set the watch for the European time. Then he nudged France in his shoulder, and got ready to sit up as soon as the weight on his chest would disappear.

  
     “Hey, France. Get off; we’ll land in thirty minutes.” France mumbled something incomprehensible, but made moves to sit back up.

  
     “ _Merci beacoup, Mon Cheri_.” France smiled with a sleepy face. England was breath-less, he looked absolutely stunning. Then he caught himself and became irritated by his own thoughts. There was absolutely nothing breath-taking by how France’s hair was slightly tousled and the content expression on his face.

  
     “It was nothing, but remember that you owe me one now.” 

     
     “Whatever you want, _Cheri_.” France was still smirking.

  
     “Well… err… I will think about it. But we have to strap on our seatbelts, I think we are going in for landing soon.”

  
     “Ah, _oui_. What’s the time here now?”

  
     “Just little after seven in the evening. You sure get jet-lagged after travelling to the other side of the world. Fortunately, the next meeting we will be attending is closer.”

  
     “ _Oui_ , that will be the meeting for the E.U. at my place tomorrow, _non_?”

  
     “Yes, I believe that will be it. Then, it will hopefully stay quiet for a few days. This is seriously too much stress. Why do the meetings have to be so close, and on completely different places, so it’s literally no breathing-space between?”

  
     “Well, I hope you’ll come drinking after the meeting, so I can… relive you of some of that stress.” England stared weirdly at France. He thought they had some sort of silent agreement never to talk about… that _thing_ they had going. He could feel the tension between them now. He just had to come up with an answer that didn’t imply he actually wanted, no, rather longed for it. And neither was he particularly happy that France had mentioned it.

  
     “Don’t I always?” Good. That could work.

  
     “You certainly do.” France straightened his back, looked forward and clutched the armrest while the plane started losing altitude. For a second England thought France sounded a bit sad, but it was probably nothing.

  
     They exited the plane and went straight to transfer, and because they had their suitcases, neither of them had any other baggage to collect. France was departing to Paris, and England to London. Right before they went their separate ways, England spoke.

  
     “Are you sure you are going to be alright?”

  
     “ _Oui_ , I’ll stop by the liquid-shop to get something heavier than wine, and the flight is not that long after all, so I’ll be fine.” He had a big smile on his face. “What is this, _Angleterre_? Do you care for me after all?”

  
     “Fuck no! I just feel sorry for the poor bastard sitting next to you. Now shut it, and leave me alone!”

  
     “I’ll see you in Paris, _mon ami_. _Au revoir_!” And with that they parted. England’s plane left shortly after, so he didn’t have time to do any shopping. Not that he needed anything either. However, he might take a drink out of the whiskey he purchased in Beijing. He needed that after _that_ flight. It wasn’t that he hadn’t enjoyed it. The closeness. It was because he had. And that scared him.

  
     He arrived at Gatwick just outside London. As usual, the rain was pouring down heavy. Now that he was in England, had had to set the watch once more. Time zones could get very confusing at times. He took the train from the airport to the train station closest to where his house was. From there it was a quick walk until he reached his residence. He unlocked the door and stepped inside.

  
     The big house was cold and felt abandoned even though he had only been gone for a few days. After placing his shoes by the door and hanging his leather jacket on a hook, he went further into the house. He threw the suitcase on the big armchair by the unlit fireplace, and collapsed on the sofa across from it. All the travelling had made him tired, but he probably wouldn’t sleep for a while because of the nap on the plane to Amsterdam. There was only one thing he felt like doing now. Drinking. With one hand, he rummaged through the shopping bag from the airport in Beijing. With a peek on his watch, he could see it was close to eight in the evening. Maybe if he drank enough, he would actually be able to sleep tonight, instead of having an enormous jet lag and sleeping through the entire meeting later tomorrow.

  
     Out of the bag, he pulled the bottle of whiskey, popped the cork, and took a pull at the bottle. He knew he would regret it in the morning, but right now, he didn’t give a shite. He shifted so he was lying on his back and staring at the roof. Maybe he should have made a fire, so he wouldn’t get cold. No, fuck that. The whiskey provided all the warmth he needed. He took another gulp. Maybe he’d just sleep on the sofa tonight. One more swing of the bottle. Oh, how he needed a good fuck. Or maybe just someone to be with, to cuddle a bit with there on the sofa before he fell asleep. He already had his cell phone out and were ready to call France, but then he paused. No, he couldn’t do that, what the hell was he thinking?. That would make it seem like he wanted him. But the truth was that he really did. More than anything. Not just for the sexual activities, but for everything. He could barely wait until after the meetings to go drinking with him. Although France probably saw this as nothing but sex, for England it was so much more. An excuse for being with him. That’s why he had to get properly drunk before he even dared make a move. Hopefully, France didn’t think he actually meant anything with it. Tears began forming in his eyes. For France it was probably nothing. He couldn’t take anything that man said seriously. Even when he flirted, England was sure he didn’t mean it. Because that was just the way he was. In anger, he threw his phone across the room, where it hit the wall. England emptied the rest of the bottle in one gulp, and let it slide out of his hand and down on the floor. He could feel the alcohol begin working on him. Still he fixed out another bottle and went down on it. The whiskey made the pain go away, and soon he were fast asleep on the sofa, still dressed.

  
     The next morning he woke up with a massive headache. But he was just happy he actually woke up on time. After he took a shower, England looked at his watch. It was only four hours until the meeting started. Or three hours for him because of the time zones. And due to the lack of flights between the two capitals that day, he had to take the Eurostar, which took about two hours. And all of that meant that he had to get dressed, eat breakfast, go to London and get on the train, in under an hour. Shite. Deciding he could eat on the train, he quickly got into a nice suit he found in his closet and packed a change of clothes and the documents required for the meeting, which he had been so foresighted to prepare before he had left for Beijing, into his suitcase. The previous content of the suitcase he had emptied ruthlessly on the floor of his office.

  
     He ran out the door, almost forgetting to lock it, and down to the train station. Fortunately, he reached the train to London just in time. Sitting down inside, catching his breath, he was relieved. Hopefully he would be there on time. He was usually not the one to arrive late.

  
     When the train after short time reached the centre of London, and the main train station, he got off and went on board the Eurostar, the train that went back and forth, on an underground railroad between England and France. There he ordered some English breakfast while he waited for it to leave the station. Then he looked out the window and watched the faces of people passing by. England smiled to himself. When travelling, he saw so many different people all the time. Everyone unique in their own ways. He thought back on the conversation he had had with France in Beijing, the day before. How they viewed life so different from their people. For them, every year was just a second, just a blink with their eyes. Over almost before it had even begun.

  
     The train started moving and soon after, his order arrived. While he ate and the train past through the landscape, he noted he was almost alone in the carriage. Just a few other passengers beside himself. An old married couple and a handful of students it seemed like. England quietly ate his breakfast while enjoying the calmness and tranquillity that came with travelling by train. The smooth sway of the carrige as it turned slightly.

  
     After England finished the meal, he bought himself a newspaper to read on the trip. According to his watch, he would just have the time to get to where the meeting was held from the station when he got there. That was why he figured he might as well enjoy the stress-free environment for the moment.

  
     There was nothing new in the paper. Just old topics. But that they were old did not necessary mean they were done with them. He read through an article about Russia’s recent activities. He sure was glad that Russia was not a part if the E.U. He could not handle any more inner conflicts. There was more than enough of them in the union.

  
     The train submerged into the underground tunnel. England continued reading his paper. When he looked up he could see the students laughing and talking vividly with each other. They probably weren’t older than him, biologically speaking, of course. Twenty-three years or something. The nations’ whole existence was very unbelievable. And there was very few people in the world who knew of it. The other people in this carrige probably thought England was just an ordinary man. And why would they believe different? England sighed. Obviously, it was for the best. To protect both parts. The nations of assassination or worse, and the people of fear for the unknown.

  
     England looked down at his paper again. He still had his tea from the breakfast, and occasionally took sips from it. Soon they came up into the sunlight again. Now in France. The beautiful landscape flashed by the window. The nation watched the scenery. England missed the damned frog, and hated himself for it. He almost couldn’t wait until tonight. His long, golden hair and his perfect figure haunted his memory. England stopped himself there. No need to go any further. It was not as he was in love with him or anything. _Love_ wasn’t something he did. And it wasn’t like _anyone_ would ever return his feelings. _If_ he had them, that was. Which was something he did not.

  
     England looked over at the old couple. It seemed like they were having the time of their lives. To grow old with someone was a luxury he as a nation could never get. None of them could. But at the same time that it was tempting, it also frightened him. A fear of not to be able to do everything he wanted before he died. As a nation, he never really feared for his life. He didn’t have to. There were, of course, some situations where he had had to, and that was a feeling that scared him. In fact, even when at some points he thought it was far too much work, or some crisis happened and everything went straight to hell, he did not mind being a nation. It was the only way of life he had ever known, and something else would seem wrong. Too bad the only company he had was a bunch of idiots.

  
     The train pulled in to the final stop, located in the centre of Paris. England got off the carriage with his suitcase in one hand and the paper stuffed under the other. His watch told him he had about half an hour until the meeting began. He quickly grabbed a cab, and told the driver where to go. Finally there, after a swift ride through France’s capital, he stepped out and hurried up the stairs to the building where the meeting was being held. Fortunately, this was not the first time a meeting was set to this place, so he knew where to go inside the vast premises. He almost jogged down a corridor and burst through the last door on the left.

  
     Almost every nation in the E.U. was present, and sitting by a circular table, with a hole in the middle. They all looked up at him. Down at the end he saw France, with a wide smile appearing on his face, staring at him. That view made his stomach do a weird jump. England quickly looked at something else, and made his way down the side of the table to his seat, while he straightened out his tie.

  
     “Sorry I am late, the train just got to the station. Did you start the meeting yet?” He sat down and looked at Germany, who was usually in charge at assemblies like this.

  
     “No, we were just about to when you came. Now, please, everyone be quiet.” The small chatter seized, and Germany rose from his seat.

  
     “Alright, the subjects we will be discussing in today’s meeting will be: new memberships, inner conflicts, and the energy issue we all face in today’s society. You will raise your hand before you speak, and you will only have a certain amount of time, so be quick about it. Now, firstly, we’ll discuss new memberships.” Germany sat down before he continued. “The five official candidates are Iceland, Macedonia, Montenegro, Serbia and Turkey. As usual, they have to agree to our terms and sign the contract. But the question is: why or why not do we want them to join us?”

  
     Some of the nations rose their hands.

  
     “Spain?”

  
     “I don’t think that allowing Turkey to join is a good idea. That will only tear this union apart; his culture is too different from ours and that would make it hard to make rules we all agree with.”

  
     Then England got a signal to talk.

  
     “That is true, but at the same time would a collaboration with him make a way to the east and open up new possibilities in trade among different things. On top of that is his economy in the top twenty, so allowing him to join would make a positive outcome.”

  
     Greece’s turn.

  
     “But he is unreliable, and we can’t trust him. And it will take a lot of time until he will be able to agree with our terms.”

  
     Denmark spoke up.

  
     “Then we can make Icey join. He really wants to, and he has a great economy.”

  
     Then France butted in.

  
     “Of course he wants to, he can hardly manage by himself any longer, and it wouldn’t be bad for us if he joined, but it had been more … preferable if his brother joined instead. His money would certainly come of good use.”

  
     “There’s no way in hell we’ll be able to convince Norway. We have tried so many times already. He is perfectly happy sitting there alone with his oil-money. He doesn’t need us.” England said.

  
     “But it’s not like he using his money! He could at least share some of it.” France pouted.

  
     Denmark tried to defend his neighbour.

  
     “He is saving them in case of a crisis or worse times in the future, or that’s what he said at least, and it’s not like anyone gave a shit about him before he found the oil and became rich. He was the poorest of us all, so he know how it is. And we already made a pretty good deal with him and Switzerland, so like hell they wanna join now.”

  
     And so it went on for hours until they all had had enough of disagreeing with each other.

  
     “Let’s just leave it at that, shall we? We don’t have to make up a decision on that today anyway. We’ll move on to the next topic.”  
     Germany took control again.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The time zones caused me a lot of stress and there may still be some error but, eh, what the fuck.  
> The smut will be included in the next chapter.


	5. “Drinks”.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You all know what's gonna happen here, why even bother to summarize it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! This is my first time ever writing smut, so I don't know if it'll be any good (it probably won't). Also; I don't know French, I'm just using google translate. But nonetheless, enjoy:

France took a quick glance over at England. He had almost thought he wouldn’t show up today. He barely made it to the meeting on time. But here he was. Seeing him in the flesh again made France think back on the flight they had shared the day before. He remembered falling asleep while England massaged him, and waking up to find the other nation had fallen asleep as well. Holding him. France had not could’ve resisted the temptation, turned around and kissed England softly on his lips, and then laid down again, hugging him. France almost blushed thinking about it. He certainly hoped England didn’t notice the kiss. He would’ve freaked out. Sure, he didn’t do that with the sex, but there was a reason they didn’t kiss much when they were going at it. A kiss could have more meaning to it than just sex sometimes.

  
     France had gotten lost in thought for a while, and now he didn’t have a slightest idea of what they were discussing. Probably something boring as always. He decided to try to pay attention. As far as he could tell, it was about Russia. If they should boycott him until he changed his approach, or not. France sighed. They would never come to an agreement. They seldom did, and then – sometimes – it was too late anyway.

  
     After an hour or two, they agreed to pick up that topic later, and began the last issue for the day. To reduce their pollutant emission and what else they could do to help Mother Earth. That wouldn’t do much good either way, when America was the one who emitted about one fourth of the contaminated, and it didn’t seem like he would stop.

  
     France was growing bored. He was very impatient for the meeting to end. He needed England now. It was a shame they had to go drinking first. France would’ve love to just skip right to the action, but he knew that wasn’t possible. They hated each other, and they would never even dream of going to bed with the other. However, France couldn’t say with complete honesty that he hadn’t. 

  
     A few more hours past and they decided to stop for the day. They hadn’t reached a conclusion in either of the topics yet, but that could wait until another time. Most of them had been to the meeting in Beijing the other day, so they were all tired.

  
     The nations stood up and collected their notes on the paper, and put them away. Then the meeting-room slowly emptied. The nations left one by one or in groups. Only two stayed behind. Both of them pretended like they had many notes, and it took a while to collect them all. They didn’t want the others to suspect anything, even if they were in denial themselves. The meeting had lasted longer than expected and it was getting quite late already.

  
     “So, where did you have in mind?” England looked down at his papers while talking.

  
     “Ah, eh, nothing special. Just a little bar a few streets down from here. It’s … close to my apartment.” France hoped England wouldn’t mind.

  
     “Good. Then shall we get going?” England grabbed his suitcase and went over to stand by the door. “You coming?”

  
     “ _Oui, oui_ , just a moment.” France left his papers neatly together in a pile on the table. He’d have someone to come pick them up later, right now he had more important matters to tend to.

  
     Side by side, they left the building and walked together down the streets. France stole some glances over at England now and then. He looked absolutely gorgeous in the lights from the lamp post. Neither of them spoke while they strolled down, a few cars passing by and people talking to each other. It had become late due to the meeting, about nine or so, so there weren’t that many people outside. Only a few in the bars and some tourists wanting to catch a glimpse of the city at night.

  
     When they reached the place France had talked about, they went inside. The bar was very cosy, and even though it was small, there was quite a lot of people there, having a good time. The two nations went straight up to the bar and sat down on two stools. They were still in their suits and didn’t exactly fit in there.

  
     “A whisky, please”

  
     “ _Que dites-vous_?” The bartender looked questionable and distasteful at England. Like he was some shit-stain he had just discovered under his shoe.

  
     “ _Pardon, Monsieur, mais il est l’anglais._ _Pourrait-il avoir du whisky? Et calvados pour moi, se il vous plaît._ ” France butted in before England could even come up with an answer. The bartender nodded and went to fetch their drinks.

  
     “Seriously, England. When will you learn that my people don’t want to talk your foul language?”

  
     “They could at least be polite when I am talking to them. And my language is not foul, you frog! And French is hardly understandable.”

  
     “Oh, please, England. I know you understand French perfectly well. I was the one who taught you, remember? And I also know you like it.” He smirked and looked over at England through half-lidded eyes. “You think it’s sexy.”

  
     “Bloody hell, no! There is nothing sexy or otherwise appealing with your language, now drop the subject!”

  
     “If you insists. Still, try to talk French to my people when you are here. They don’t like you Englishmen.”

  
     “And whose fault do you think that is?” England scowled at him.

  
     “Oh please, as if your people don’t hate us too. What else is there to expect really?”

  
     The bartender came with their drinks, nodded slightly to France, and frowned at England. England then gave the bartender a look which made him go stand at the other side of the bar.

  
     “England, do not make my people uncomfortable. We are here to drink, not start a war. You are in my country now. At least appreciate my hospitality while we are not quarrelling with each other.”

  
     “Idiot. We are always quarrelling.”

  
     “Well, at least we are not at war. That’s something.” France took a sip out of his glass. The wine felt good down his throat. England took a mouthful of whisky too.

  
     And that’s how they continued. Bickering and drinking glass after glass with wine and whisky. After England had emptied his fourth glass, he put it down violently on the bar. France could see he was much more drunk than he himself. He never could hold his liquor very well. They had been in the middle of a conversation about gardening – however that came to be. England looked France straight in his eyes, and he could feel a chill run down his spine as his chest and face heated up.

  
     “Your apartment. Now.” His eyes were matt due to the alcohol, but behind that, France thought he could see a spark of lightning. Those were the only words he uttered. France didn’t know if it was because he was too drunk to say anything more, or if he simply wanted to be direct. Either way he didn’t care. This was what he had waited for all day.

  
     “ _O-oui._ ” That was all he could muster to say at the moment. They paid the bartender and headed out the exit, England a bit unsteady. His apartment was just around the corner, and while he fiddled with the keys to get the lock open, he could feel England’s presence right behind him. He stood very close, and that made France even more eager to get the damn door open. Finally, it swung open, and France turned around to face England. 

  
     He did not expect to be violently slammed against the wall inside, England’s body flushed up against his, and his lips captured in a passionate kiss. He kissed back with all his might and hurriedly got England out of his jacket. They broke apart of air a few times, but quickly resumed with deep, wet kisses as their tongues swirled around each other. England had never kissed him like that before. Not so directly or eagerly.

  
     France slammed the door shut, so passers-by shouldn’t see something they did not want to. Not that he cared. Not right now. Now there was something entirely different occupying his mind. England had taken off France’s jacket too, and was currently working on his shirt. They were still in the hallway, and France wanted to do this as comfortable as possible, so after he quickly tossed his now undone shirt in the floor, he pushed England back – towards the bedroom.

  
     France pinned England down on the bed and grinned at him. For a few seconds their eyes were locked, and green met blue. Then England looked away, reddening, and France remembered that for him, this was nothing special. This was just sex. He felt his heart sink. But that did not mean he wouldn’t do his best to please England. He still loved him.

  
     France leaned down and placed light kisses along England’s jawline as he smoothly undid England’s shirt. He could feel the other nation shiver under him. When the shirt was open, he moved his lips down to his nipple, lightly sucking on it. France heard England gasp. He smiled, circling his tongue around, teasing.

  
     But it seemed like England would have none of that. France was gripped by his shoulders and flung around so he was lying on his back. England placed himself over him, bent down and attacked his neck. As he kissed and sucked, leaving love-bites, France closed his eyes and moaned. England’s hands wandered over his body. Touching, feeling.

  
     France felt the zipper on his trousers being pulled down. Then England straightened up. France opened his eyes. The sight was magnificent. England towering over him, with eyes half-lidded and full of lust. France could feel himself harden just by looking at him.

  
     He watched as England pulled off his trousers and placed himself between his legs. France, now only wearing his boxers, hoist himself up on his elbows to get a better view. One hand combing through his tousled hair to get it out of the way.

  
     England let his lips trace up France’s thigh. Occasionally pressing a kiss or two against the warm skin. France was only getting harder by this action, and he needed England to touch him. That’s why it was a good thing England had never been the one for foreplay. He hooked two fingers under the edge of the boxers and pulled down. The erect manhood popped up and England stared nipping at it right away. He let his tongue play with it, slowly sucking at the sides. France drew in some short breathes. He had to control himself not to jerk his hips upwards.

  
     Fortunately, it seemed like England had had enough of playing around. He was drunk and wanting. He went straight down on France’s cock without any warning, and France let out a small shout. He could feel England smiling with his mouth around him. He huffed. He knew England did these things on purpose.

  
     England began sucking and pressing his tongue against the throbbing erection at the same time. France moaned deeply now. England moved his head up and down with a slow pace. While he sucked, his hands wandered over his lover’s body to places he knew the other was sensitive. 

 

     France couldn’t contain himself anymore and bucked his hips upwards, almost gagging England. He got an angry glare from the brit. France simply smiled back. Seeing England with his cock in his mouth, France decided they had to move this along, or else he would come only by looking at his lover.

  
     He sat up, cupped England’s face with his hands and brought their lips together. It came very sudden to the Englishman, and he went tense. They didn’t usually kiss, but France decided he couldn’t stand it anymore. France sucked lightly at his lower lip, and England relaxed. While he deepened the kiss, he took the opportunity to free England of his shirt, which was still on him. Swapping their positions once again, France began to undress England completely, unzipping his trousers, still kissing him tenderly.

  
     England seemed to be completely lost the passionate kiss and didn’t even notice he suddenly lied there in the nude, stripped by France. He did however notice when a hand began touching his crotch. He flinched by the sudden contact, but then relaxed.

  
     France buried his tongue deep in his partner’s mouth and pressed their bodies together. One hand jerking England’s dick, and the other caressing his body. Then, suddenly, England threw his arms around France’s neck, drawing him closer and making the kiss even more intense, as if that was possible. Hearing England’s moans and sigh of pleasure made the Frenchman more aroused. He was also panting quite hard when the two of them broke apart for air. They were both sweating and had flushed faces.

  
     Their eyes connected for a while and France quickly leaned down and placed a tender kiss on England’s lips. England just stared back at him, and France was unable to decipher what the other was thinking before he spoke.

  
     “Fuck me.”

  
     France’s eyes widened in surprise, but only for a moment. Then he grinned and kissed England once more.

  
     “With pleasure, _mon cheri_.”

  
     France bent over to get the lube from the nightstand. When his attention was not on England anymore, the latter took the opportunity to litter kisses all over France’s chest and upper torso as his hands groped France’s behind. Goosebumps appeared all over his skin and he shivered by the sensation. England was rarely so affectionate. However, all this made it harder to concentrate and he began swearing to himself in French when he could not find the bottle. England paid no attention to him and instead pressed his teeth down on his hip, which made France’s cock twitch. He inhaled sharply. This was driving him crazy.

  
     Finally he found what he had been looking for and turned back to face a smirking England. With the lube still in his grip, he pressed violently down on England and grinded so their erections rubbed together. England’s eyes widened and a breath of pleasure left his wet lips. His arms went around France’s neck and his feet wrapped around France’s hips so he could get a better angle. Still pressed together, France moved his hips in a rocking motion and moaned at the sensation of their cocks crammed between their bodies. His arms snaked around England’s back and hugged him tight. He felt England’s heavy breaths and moans by his ear. Oh fuck, he was about to come. No, dammit, not yet. He withdrew from their entanglement, his breath as if he had just ran a marathon. Panting and through half lidded eyes, he studied his lover lying beneath him. He was stunning. Drops of sweat made his hair cling to his forehead and his face was red, only littered by a few freckles.

   
     “The fuck you waiting for?”

  
     France merely smiled happily before he leaned down to press a kiss to his lover’s lips as his hands popped the bottle and had it’s contents in his palm. The bottle was then thrown out of sight. He continued the heated kiss as he smeared the lube over his cock, his heart throbbing fast with anticipation.

  
     France wrapped his arm around England’s lower back, lifting it slightly as he guided his member. England’s breath hitched slightly as the cock touched his entrance.

  
     “Are you ready, _mon Cher_?” France watched the other carefully.

  
     England simply stared intensively into his eyes before speaking.

  
     “I want you. Now.”

  
     France felt like he could cry out of happiness. The sincerity in his eyes felt so real, even in his drunken state. If only for this small amount of time France could pretend that England actually meant what he said, and would remember it the next day. Before his thoughts trailed completely off track, he pressed slowly into England, the latter breathless and with an open mouth. It probably hurt a bit. France paused and looked worried at his companion. He could feel England relaxing beneath him and after a while he began pressing back and tightening his feet, dragging the Frenchman closer. France followed his lead and was soon fully inside. They both panted heavy. Their eyes connected and after England nodded, France moved. He pulled out a bit before slowly thrusting back in again. England let out a deep moan, closing his eyes shut. France emitted a heavy sigh as well of the fantastic feeling of hot muscle tightening around his member.

  
     France took a deep breath before continuing with a steady and smooth rhythm with waving motions. England was reduced to a complete mess under him and he was almost blacking out himself from the fantastic sensation. However, he still needed to find England’s pleasure spot. He braced himself and made one hard push inside. England screamed from the pleasure he received and raked his fingernails down France’s back. Found it. Now for the finish.

  
     France took a hold of England’s cock, hard, throbbing, and leaking, and began jerking him off as he set a harder and faster pace. The noised England emitted, made him go crazy but still he captured his lips in a kiss. He had problems thinking straight, but he managed to voice a request.

  
     “ _Angleterre_. Could you say something in French?”

  
     “How dare you? Nnng – earlier you were mocking my language, and now you – ahh – want me to speak yours? You fucking twat!”

  
     “Well, English might not be the most beautiful language, but…” France hesitated. “I’ll admit that – ahh – French with a British accent is extremely sexy.”

  
     England went silent except the moans due to France’s thrusting inside him. France thought the battle lost and went back to concentrating on getting them both to the climax. He quickened his pace and soon England was right out shouting from all the pleasure. His grip around him tightened. Then England did something highly unexpected. He had almost reached his orgasm, and on France’s final thrust, he shouted.

  
     “ _Je t’amie!_ ”

  
     To those words, France came with a twitch of his body, inside him, uttering “ _Angleterre_ ” as he did, and England followed right after. Panting, France laid down on top of his lover. His eyes were wide and he stared blankly out in the room. Had he just heard what he thought he had? France suddenly got this weird sensation in his stomach and he felt nauseas and light-headed at the same time. Had England just said he loved him? In French? But he was drunk, surely he couldn’t have meant it? He looked up to ask England about it, but the other was already asleep. Nonetheless, France watched him and smiled warmly to himself. Placing a loving kiss on England’s forehead, he moved off the other’s body to lie beside him. Draping one arm around him and nuzzling his face into the Englishman’s chest, he soon fell asleep as well.   



	6. Love?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The famous next morning. What happens?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, last chapter. Here it is.

England stirred. Something warm and heavy was pressing down on his chest. He blinked a few times to get the sleep out of him. Oh, how his head hurt. It felt like someone was pounding on iron in there. He brought one hand up to his face. What had happened last night and what was going on with his chest? He looked down.

  
     He became very surprised to see the French nation draped over him. So that was what he had been doing last night. He sighed. However, it was odd for them to lie close, even more to be embracing each other. Or, technically, it was France who was embracing him, lying on his chest, the face towards him. England paused. Looking more closely, he could see France smiling in his sleep. He wondered what could have made him that happy, ‘cause it sure as hell couldn’t be him. Suddenly he felt sad. Why, he could not grasp.

  
     Normally he would have tried to sneak out as quietly as soon as possible, but something about France captivated him. So instead, he remained, and watched as France slept peacefully. Pondering what caused that beautiful smile on his neighbour’s face. He ended up smiling sadly to himself. He lifted a hand to brush away some strands of golden hair that had fallen down over his face. He looked truly gorgeous like this. England traced a finger down his soft cheek feeling his warm skin, and secretly wished they could stay like that forever.

  
     After some time, England weren’t exactly sure how much had past, he was completely lost admiring the other, France’s eyelashes began fluttering. The other nation slowly opened his eyes. For a short moment, they were staring at each other. Then England felt his heart stop and face grow warmer, and spoke sternly before France could see he was blushing.

  
     “Move.” That was it. One word would suffice. After all, this was the first time the two of them were awake at the same time the morning after.

  
     France stared blankly at him first, but then pulled back.

  
     England turned around so his feet touched the floor. His head felt like it would explode from the sudden movement. A groan escaped him as he clenched the bedside to steady himself. At least, with his back to the other, France couldn’t see how red he was either. England felt eyes rest upon his back.

  
     “ _Angleterre_?” Why was France talking to him? He wasn’t supposed to do that.

  
     “What?” He irritated barked back.

  
     “Err … do you recall anything from last night?” Shite, had he said or done something he shouldn’t have?

  
     “What thing?” He turned his head around, as he arched a thick eyebrow at the other. France went silent. Then he chuckled half-heartedly.

  
     “Oh, you know. The usual. You said that you hate me and stuff.”

  
     England turned back and stood up to gather his clothing, which were littered all over the bedroom floor. He felt himself relax.

  
     “Good, I don’t want you to get any other impression.”

  
     From that, he received a small chuckle from the bed. England found his pants and began dressing. His trousers were also nearby and he bent down to grab them. France had gone silent again. Then he spoke once more.

  
     “ _Angleterre_ … we need to talk.” England felt his heart jump. Oh no. Thoughts raced through his head. Had he done something wrong? France had probably gone tired of him and wanted to end this – this thing they had been doing. What was he going to do? He knew it couldn’t last forever but he did not want it to end so soon.

  
     “About what?” He hoped France couldn’t hear the shakiness in his voice.

  
     “About … this. We can’t keep doing this.” England could almost feel his heart shatter. He still didn’t look at France.

  
     “Fine, then we’ll stop.” He barely heard the words coming out of his mouth. “If you’re tired of it, you could have just said so.” He put on his trousers, zipping them shut.

  
     “No, _Angleterre_ , it’s not like that, I–“

  
     “You don’t have to explain yourself, frog. It’s alright, I was growing tired of you anyway. It’s probably for the best.”

  
     “Hey! Would you listen for once, you stupid brit!” England looked up at him. “I said I wanted to talk.” England grew annoyed. How far did France intend to take this? He furrowed his brows.

  
     “What is it to talk about? We’ll just quit, it’s no big deal!”

  
     “Do you really want to?” France had a weird expression on his face; England couldn’t quite make anything out of it.

  
     “Excuse me?” He had found his shirt and were now busy buttoning it up. France sighed.

  
     “Do you want to end this?”

  
     “Why the bloody hell wouldn’t I? What does it matter to you anyway? You are the one who started talking about this in the first place.” England was now completely dressed and stood in front of the bed, finally confronting the other. France was still naked under the covers.  “You’re the one who said we couldn’t keep doing this, and now you’re asking me what I want? Do you actually believe I care? To me you’re just a good fuck, now get over yourself!” He could feel his stomach twist and turn as he said those things, tears forming in his eyes. His headache was getting worse from yelling as well. Hopefully France would now drop the topic. He couldn’t stand being rejected even more.

  
     France was silent for a moment.

  
     “You don’t mean that…”

  
     “Indeed I do. Just like I’m just a fuck to you. A new victory to brag about to your friends. We don’t care about each other, and I have no idea why we kept doing this this long.”

  
     “What? No, no. _Angleterre_ , please. I _do_ care for you. Why do you think we kept doing this?”

  
     “Why do you keep asking me everything?! If you have something to say, just say it!”

  
     “I love you!”

  
     England froze. Did he just hear what he thought he had? He stood completely still, body tense, staring at France. He was staring back, just as shocked. England assumed he hadn’t expected that either. He swallowed.

  
     “You are joking right? Tell me this is a joke.”

  
     France blinked and regained his ability to speak.

  
     “ _Non_ , I am afraid it is not. _Angleterre_ , I–“

  
     “No. Don’t you dare. No, no, no, no. This _has_ to be a joke. Please tell me you have some cameras hidden around here. Seriously, France. Be reasonable. How could you possibly lo–“

  
     France rose from the bed, not bothering to hide his body. He came towards England and grabbed a hold of his shirt with both hands, dragging him close. They were so close that their noses almost touched, and they could feel the other’s breath on their chins. They stared into each other’s eyes. A glaze full of meaning. France closed the gap between them. He kissed England’s lips hard at first, and then it turned more wet and warm. England kissed back and their lips moved in unison. After a few seconds, France pulled away. Through half-lidded eyes his gaze moved between England’s lips and eyes.

  
     “ _Je t’ami_.”

  
     “Really?” England was breath-less.

  
     “ _Oui,_ _ce est la vérité, mon Angleterre_.” France grinned back. “And I know you do too. Even though you are too stubborn to admit it.”

  
     “How could you possibly know anything? What if I told you that I do, in fact, not love you.”

  
     “Well, you know, the alcohol often do contribute to a lot of things…” France held him tight and pressed another kiss on his lips. England looked at him sceptically with a raised eyebrow.

  
     “You’re kidding.” France simply grinned. “What did I say?” England furrowed his brows.

  
     “Mmmm, nothing much. Just that you loved me.”

  
     “Oh, bloody hell.”

  
     “In French.”

  
     England groaned. This was unbelievable.

  
     “But, you know, you say many foolish things when you are drunk, so you probably didn’t mean it.” France moved down, and began kissing his neck. “When I said we couldn’t keep doing this, I meant the part where we are drunk. Actually, I was going to propose we did this sober and, if you want, more frequently. It was just an idea, though.” He sucked lightly at a spot he knew England enjoyed.

  
     “Ahhmmm… yes. Yes, actually hell yes. Wait, now?”

  
     France hummed.

  
     “Why not? Do you have anywhere else you should be right now?”

  
     “I-I … well, no, but … I just got dressed.”

  
     “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll take care of that.” France smirked. “We could just … stay in bed for now. You know, I haven’t been able to enjoy our mornings together yet after all. Which is something I am truly looking forward to.” France used his right hand to support England’s jaw as he pressed a final soft kiss to his lips.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, this is it.  
> I was conflicted about writing another chapter with the rest of their day. I ended up not doing it, 'cause I wanted a proper ending, but if someone wants me to write it, just let me know and then consider it done :)


	7. What do we do now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> France and England are trying to work out their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took forever. I got caught up in some other stuff; end of school, vacation and then work. On top of that I didn't quite like how the chapter turned out and it became a lot longer than planned, and improvised. I also didn't plan on writing any smut, but nothing ever go as I plan. Still horrible at writing it though.  
> PS: the POV will shift in this chapter, because I wanted both their thoughts on this one, and I don't know if I'll write any more of this.

France slowly unbuttoned England’s shirt, which only a few seconds earlier had littered the floor. While he did so, he pressed small, soft kisses onto England’s mouth. This turn of events pleased him to no end. To have England here, sober and conscious, opening up for him, was more than he could ever have hoped for.

  
     Inside England’s mind, his thoughts were racing. France really felt that way about him? He still had not brought himself to use the word _love_ , even though he had begun to realize that that was the only word that fit his feelings. And here he was; standing in the Frenchman’s bedroom, being undressed by France himself. He confirmed silently in his mind that neither he nor France were intoxicated at the moment. The two of them were all alone and completely sober, and in France’s case, naked. England’s heart fluttered as he took in France’s appearance. His firm, muscled arms were working on his shirt while his golden hair fell down, encircling his face, slightly tousled by a night’s sleep. He was beautiful, and he was _there_. England reached out a hand to tuck a few of France’s locks behind his ear, for then to let it slide down and cup his face.

  
     France looked up to meet green eyes staring at him. England had a weird expression on his face, which France could not decipher. Was he having second-thoughts about this? Maybe he had changed his mind, or maybe France had wrongly assumed the sincerity of England’s words last night? Maybe– France’s train of thoughts stopped as England slowly leant forward to join their lips. Pleasantly surprised, but surprised nonetheless, France returned the kiss as he slid the shirt off his neighbour’s shoulders. This was intimacy on a whole other level for them. This was _loving_ and _being loved_. Considering who they had been, and still were on some areas, to each other, this was a big step for both of them.

  
     “Take off your trousers, _sil te plait_.” France murmured.

  
     “Hmm… what? Do you want to–”

  
     “You can keep your pants on if you like.” France smirked. He was going to savour this moment. It was not every day he had an opportunity like this, although he hoped there would be in the future. Thus, because too much of their time alone during the last few months had been used for … other things, he wanted this to be different. And also prove to England that he really was serious about this. He knew the Englishman must have had his doubts.

  
     After England had tucked his trousers off, France led him over to the bed and, as he sat down on it, embraced England and let them both “fall” back onto the soft mattress.

  
     “France…”

  
     “ _Oui, amor_?”

  
     “What are we doing?”

  
     France smiled softly.

  
     “I think the question is; what _have_ we been doing? You think too much, _Angleterre_. Actually, we both have been overthinking things. There have been too much thinking for ourselves and not enough talking.”

  
     They lay silent for a few seconds.

  
     “ _Angleterre_?”

  
     “Hmm? What?”

  
     France took a deep breath as to calm himself before he plunged into it.

  
     “Why are _you_ doing this? Did you really mean it what you said last night? I need to know. As I said, I have been thinking and I came to the conclusion that… I want… this. Whatever this is. We have been through a lot together and nobody knows me as you do, both good and bad. And I think that is the case with you too, _non_? I really love you, but what you want with this?”

  
     As he talked, France had brought his hand up to run through England’s hair, as a nervous gesture, petting him. No answer came and France began thinking he should never have spoken at all, when England stirred.

  
     England’s mind was a mess right then. France was serious this time. And he knew he was right – their relationship had always been special. All in all it had taken him too long to realize this. But as he lay there, on top of France, held by his strong arms, the warmth and smell of him surrounding them, one thing was clear: it felt right. Being there with him. He could get used to this. Then he realized he had left France hanging for quite some time now.

  
     “I do. That is – I mean – I … I love you.”

  
     No reply came and then England felt something wet by his cheek.

  
     “Bloody hell! France, are you crying?” He hoisted himself up on his elbows to get a better view of the other. France tried to smile, but his lips were trembling, morphing into a grimace. Instead of answering he shook his head and hugged England tighter, burying his face in the bed again. Uncertain of what to do, England hugged back and turned his head to press a tender kiss to France’s cheek. He had no idea France had felt so strongly about this.

  
     “France, not to ruin the moment or anything, but I need to pee. And take a shower.”

  
     France erupted into a shaky laughter, which turned more heartfelt.. After he was done, France took a few breaths to calm himself and brought his hands up to cup and lead England’s head and lips to his own. A quick kiss, and he pulled back to look lovingly at his partner.

  
     “You know where to find it, _cher_.”

  
     England looked down at him, smiling carefully and blushing ever so slightly. He got off France and walked over to the hall where the bathroom was. France remained lying on the bed, watching his lover’s backside disappearing into the room across the hall. England was slim, but still had some muscles, witnessing of a strong past. When the blond disarray of hair finally was out of sight, France let out a deep breath. He let his fingers reach up and run through his hair as a wide grin spread on his face. This was indeed happening. This was real – this was now. England truly loved him. He knew they had a lot to talk about, but at least they were moving in the right direction.

  
     The water turned on in the bathroom and France got to his feet. Before England was done showering, he had changed the sheets on the bed and fetched some of his own clothes for England to wear. The mere thought of the other nation in his garments made him smirk. He placed the clothes on the edge of the newly made bed and entered the bathroom.

  
     England had had the time to think in the shower, to reflect upon things. And the truth was that he was terrified. Terrified of this, and what lay in their near future. Of course he wanted this and wanted it to work out, but how could it? What were the other nations going to think? He was interrupted  by a voice calling out.

  
     “Hey, _Angleterre_! Don’t use all my hot water, it is expensive enough with an apartment in Paris.”

  
     “Frog! You are not even paying for it! Stop complaining, I even saved some for you.”

  
     France stuck his head in between the shower curtains.

  
     “How considerate of you _cher_. But if you keep staying long enough for a shower, I think we have to begin to share it.” He gave a wink to a considerably redder England.

  
     “Get out, frog!”

  
     “ _Non_ , you get out! You have been in here forever, now it is my turn.”

  
     “Fine!” England turned off the stream of hot water and stepped out. France pressed a kiss to his cheek as he took his previous place.

  
     “ _Merci_. There are clothes for you on the bed.”

  
     England hummed in reply, face still flushed. He made his way back to the bedroom as he heard France begin his shower. And sure enough; on the bed lay a pair of pants, a shirt and a pair of trousers. He picked up the pants to begin dressing himself. Then he realized that these were France’s clothes and not his own.

  
     “France! These are not mine!”

  
     France called back from the shower.

  
     “Oh, please. As if I would ever let you wear dirty clothes!”

  
     England muttered something in reply but France could not hear him. Still, he began dressing in the clothes France had intended for him. They were the same height, although France was a tad more muscular, so the garments fir rather well actually. All dressed, he only had to wait for France to finish his morning shower. That gave him even more time to think. He became very certain that if – if they decided to make a serious relationship out of this, they would probably continue as they always had: bickering and arguing, but also showing more affection now that they knew the other returned the feelings. And England would have it no other way. Most certainly, it would be very awkward at the beginning, though. At least England would be. It would take some time getting used to. But he imagined it could be very… intriguing. France on the other hand, was probably used to… this. As always very confident when love was involved.

  
     The door to the bathroom opened and France stepped into the hallway. He had already dressed and thus walked straight over to England, who was sitting on his bed. In _his_ clothes. _That_ was a sight worth the wait. He stopped in the doorway and leant against the frame, taking in the country in front of him.

  
     “What?” England glared.

  
     France simply chuckled.

  
     “This just seems so … unreal to me.”

  
     England went silent as a small blush crept up on his cheeks.

  
     “We need to talk, France. About… this.”

  
     France’s heart made a leap up his chest. Not only had England proposed a conversation about them, but he looked dead serious. This could not be good. Still he made sure England did not see how uneasy it made him.

  
     “ _D’accord_. We will do it over breakfast then, _non_?”

  
     “Sure, why not?” England got off the mattress and walked over to the other.

  
     “Let us eat outside – the weather is nice and there is a cosy café just around the corner.”

  
     “As long as they serve a real, proper English breakfast and not only your poor excuse for a meal.”

  
     “Of course they do. We get quite a few English tourist, you see. I wonder why though – it is not as if they could ever appreciate the beauty of Paris when they are so… British.” France smirked.

  
     “… fuck off. Let us just leave already.”

  
     A cute blush coloured England’s face as France held open his front door for his to exit.

  
     They descended the few steps down onto the pavement and walked in silence down the street. Green trees grew on each side of the road and cast dim shadows where they walked. There were many other people outside striding past them, mostly tourists. When they rounded the corner, sure enough – there lay a small café, squeezed in between a restaurant and a flower shop. The clock was nearing eleven so there already were quite a few guests seated by the tables both inside and outside the building.

  
     France signalled a waiter, who then placed them on a table for two outside right by the front door and gave them the menu. The pair sat down and began to look through the options. After a while, the waiter came back and took their orders. When he had disappeared into the café again, France supported his elbows on the table and leant forward to stare England in the eyes.

  
     “So… what did you wish to talk about, _Angleterre_?”

  
     England blinked a few times before he looked away.

  
     “Us. As in, what happens now? What do we do? How is this even going to work? As nations we-”

  
     “Shh.” France hushed him. “You think too much, _amour_. There is nothing to dwell on. We will just continue as we always have. We don’t have to make a fuss about it. I have faith in us. Sometimes you have to listen to your heart and not so much your brain. As for the nation thing, that is nothing new, just look at Germany and Italy! They are both doing fine in their relationship.” France grabbed England’s hand on the table and held it in his own. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  
     England grumbled.

  
     “Then… do we tell the others?”

  
     France studied his partner’s face.

  
     “Do you want to?”

  
     “I don’t know. I don’t even know what _this_ is, so I wouldn’t know where to start or what to say.”

  
     They were interrupted by the waiter bringing their food. They sat quietly until had he had left again.

  
     “You are overthinking things, Arthur.” They always used their human names when out in public. They had all deemed that wiser after the looks they had gotten when using their real names. “We don’t have to tell anyone, and let’s just… exist together for the moment. We don’t have to settle anything permanent for the time being. U-unless you want to of course.” France hurriedly added that last part as he picked up his croissant.

  
     England sliced up his egg with the knife and only briefly looked up to meet France’s eyes.

  
     “Well, I-”

  
     “Hey, France! Francis! Is that you?!”

  
     Both their heads turned to stare at someone approaching on the street. It was… Prussia? With his brother following right behind. He grabbed a chair from a nearby table, spun it around, and sat down beside them.

  
     “Oh, Engla- eh, Arthur, I didn’t see you there. What are you doing here?”

  
     England spluttered.

  
     “I could ask you the same question!”

  
     Germany had caught up and stood by their table, behind Prussia.

  
     “I apologize for my brother’s rudeness. We will be leaving soon. Our plane home isn’t before six o’clock so we thought we should look around before we left, we did not expect to meet you two here. Pardon the intrusion.”

  
     “Yeah, yeah. I just got to talk to Francis for a bit. I suddenly remembered something _very_ important.” Prussia winked at the French nation.

  
     France gritted his teeth and glared at his friend.

  
     “Right now? I am sure it can wait – I am in the middle of my breakfast, Gilbert.”

  
     “Sorry, can’t wait. It’s _too_ important.” Prussia grinned widely, grabbed France’s arm and hauled him to his feet before leading him away from the café.

  
     England sat back dumbfounded, wondering what had just happened, as Germany took Prussia’s previous spot by the table. He cleared his throat before he spoke.

  
     “You were thinking of leaving?”

  
     England had been staring after Prussia and France, but know he shifted his attention as he tensed.

  
     “I beg your pardon?”

  
     “The EU. I heard your politicians were in a disagreement a while ago, and that you might pull out.”

  
     Oh, that. Fuck. Yes, yes, err… there was some talk of it, however I think they have calmed down by now though.”

  
     “Good. We need you if this is going to work. I was hoping Francis could convince you if that was not the case. If you left, others would soon follow, and that would not have been good. Not just for us of course, but you as well. Pulling out of a union that big… well, some stability could be good for you and-”

  
     “How is Feliciano by the way?” England interrupted the other nation and the mention of North-Italy earned him a small blush. “Are you two doing alright?”

  
     “Y-yes. We are fine. _He_ is fine.”

  
     “Splendid. No problem with your relationship? Everything going smooth?”

  
     “Y-yes.”

  
     “Swell then.” England turned down to finish his egg now that he had silenced Germany.

  
     Prussia took France down the street until they were out of hearing range from the café. Then he turned to his friend with a sly grin on his face.

  
     “You. Were eating breakfast. Alone. With England.”

  
     France huffed but could not stop the blush on his cheeks.

  
     “So what? There is nothing wrong with that.”

  
     “Well, you told Spain and I that he never stayed the morning after, neither did you, and now you are here, eating breakfast together. So that must mean something has happened. Plus, he is wearing your clothes. Did you finally confess your eternal love to each other?” Prussia stared excited at him, awaiting the answer.

  
     France huffed but could not help but smile.

  
     “ _O-oui_ , we did. Prussia, he loves me back! He really does. Isn’t it wonderful?”

  
     “What did we tell you? Of course he does. He thinks he is good at hiding it, but everyone can see how he really feels about you.” Prussia smiled as France hugged him tight while laughing.

  
     “This makes me so happy! You have no idea.” Then he pulled back and looked sternly at Prussia. “However, we agreed to not tell anyone, so you have to swear never to tell a soul. Not even your brother, understood?”

  
     “Really? Okay, whatever you say. You can’t stop the awesome me from telling Spain though.”

  
     “That goes without saying, _mon ami_. But no one else.”

  
     “Yeah, yeah, relax, France.” Prussia smiled. “Now let’s get you back to your date.”

  
     “This is not a date!”

  
     They returned to the café and the German brothers soon after left the couple to finish their meals.

  
     “So… what did Gilbert want to talk to you about?” England raised a large eyebrow questioningly.

  
     “Oh, nothing important, you know how he is. But now I’m curious; what did Ludwig have to say?”

  
     “He just kept blabbering on about the EU and such. Although he did shut up when I mentioned Feliciano.”

  
     “Really? The poor man is too shy for his own good. It is a good thing he has Feli to keep him company. He is even more stuck up than you, _cher_.” France smirked.

  
     “Better than flirting with everything that moves, love.”

  
     “Oh, I only have eyes for you, _mon amor_.” France lowered his voice and stared seductively at his partner.

  
     England’s heart beat faster. The way France was staring at him and the tone of his voice made England’s knees weak and sent a chill up his spine. Even though what he said was frankly ridiculous, and that was when England realized he was lost. He was never getting out of this one. Helplessly in love with the bloody frog. Not knowing what to reply with, he stared angrily down at the last piece of bread on his plate and mumbled something incomprehensible.

  
     France only chuckled and held England’s hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it. He placed some euros on the table as payment and dragged England from his seat. As the island nation made some noises of protest, he threaded their fingers together and led him down the street.

  
     They walked in silence, admiring the scenery, and each other when they were not looking. They stopped by the Seine, watching the tourist boats glide through the waves. The blooming trees above them providing a fitting green colour to encircle the view.

  
     “Paris is beautiful, _non_?” France kept his eyes fixed on some children playing by the river.

  
     “It’s not too bad.” Came the reply and turning his gaze to England he saw a soft smile adorning his face. Captured by the sight, he slowly brought his hand up and held his chin as he leant in.

  
     England was surprised at first, but then relaxed and brought his arms around France’s waist, pulling him closer as their lips moved. He kissed back with eager and felt fingers in his hair, pressing their heads together.

  
     “France…”

  
     The word escaped England’s mouth between the kisses, and France felt his heart leap up into his throat.

  
     “Perhaps we should go back to my flat…” France spoke softly before he pulled away. England hummed in agreement.

  
     They made their way back through the busy, sunlit streets. The temperature had risen to around thirty degrees.

  
     “How long do you intend to stay?”

  
     “Hmm, I don’t know. I will probably go home this evening I suppose. I have a meeting with the Prime minister tomorrow, so I can’t stay too long. I haven’t even prepared my documents for it and I left my house in a hurry yesterday, so I need to clean it as well.”

  
     “So you can’t stay on more night?”

  
     “Afraid not. I do not have any clothes – even these are yours. And on top of everything I still have a lot of paperwork to do. And I am sure you do to.” He sent France a stern look.

  
     “Well…”

  
     “You know Germany will be furious if you don’t do your work, frog.”

  
     “But there’s _too much_ work!”

  
     “Suck it up.”

  
     “ _Non_! You should try to do all that paperwork – I am sure he gives me more than you.”

  
     “Bollock, we get the same amount. I am just more hardworking than you.”

  
     “You are not!”

  
     “Of course I am! Ask anyone.”

  
     “I too can work hard if I want, it’s just that I never chose to.”

  
     “Well, there you have the problem.”

  
     “It’s not a problem – I’m doing fine.”

  
     “Yes, I’m sure.” England raised an eyebrow at the other.

  
     “What? Do you worry about me?” France smirked.

  
     “No, absolutely not! Shut your bloody mouth, you twat!”

  
     France chuckled, grabbed his hand and held it as they walked down the pavement. England did nothing to remove it and a faint blush could be seen on his cheeks.

  
     Eventually they were back at the flat and France moved to unlock the door.

  
     “Do you want some tea?” France asked as he stepped inside, his back still facing England.

  
     “Yes, please. That would be lovely.”

  
     “After he had closed the door, France went straight to the kitchen as England sat down on the couch in the living room. As France prepared his tea, England busied himself looking through the books on the table. There lay “The Count of Monte Cristo”, which he had seen France read on the plane. Moreover, there was a lot of modern French literature he had never even heard of. He would bet almost all of them were romance novels. Of course they would be. He rolled his eyes, but a smile appeared soon after.

  
     The scent of hot tea filled the air as France came into the room. He handed England the cup as he sat down beside him.

  
     “Thanks.”

  
     “ _De rien_.” France put on a dashing smile before he leant in and placed a kiss on his lover’s cheek. England quickly brought the cup up to his lip as to conceal the blush.

  
     “What’s with all the kisses lately?”

  
     “Mmm… I’m just so happy today now that I finally confessed my true feelings about you – and had them returned. It’s still unbelievable to me. So I cannot help it. Perhaps you wish for me to stop?” A sly smirk followed.

  
     “Of course I do!”

  
     France just continued smiling.

  
     “You don’t though – I know you better than that, _cher_.”

  
     “I bloody well do, you-”

  
     England was stopped by a pair of lips on his own. He wanted pull away if only to prove his point, but he soon discovered he was unable to do such a thing. It was as if his body had a mind of its own. His teacup forgotten on the table, he brought a hand up to tangle in France’s long, soft hair. Eagerly, he pushed France smoothly down on the couch, not breaking the kiss. Oh, fuck, how he loved the bloody beautiful, sodding piece of shite. This was all his fault for being so damn irresistible.

  
     France wrapped his feet around England’s waist. He felt himself grow harder as England moved his mouth down to his neck, sucking. A few moans escaped him and his eyes fluttered closed. Then he understood what England was doing.

  
     “Hey! Wait! Are you giving me a mark? _Angleterre_?! You can’t give me a mark!”

  
     “Think of is as revenge for last time, darling.”

 

     “Well, no one but I and a few of China’s people saw that! You are making it too far up on my neck, everyone will see it!”

  
     “So what? No one will think anything of it, and they certainly won’t think was me. Are you complaining? Do you want me to stop?” England pushed away, but was quickly pulled back down again and held tight against France’s body.

  
     “Fuck no.”

  
     They shared a long, passionate, and slow kiss and both breathed heavy as they broke apart. England could feel the other’s erection through their pants and he grinded down on it to add pressure. The noises France made, made his body flush and his own prick grow. England moved his hands around France’s back and continued sucking on his neck as he rolled his hips against the other.

  
     France didn’t know what to do with himself. The sensation of England’s lips on his neck added to the pressure on his cock was maddening. He was drowning in pleasure, but it wasn’t enough. He needed more. At that moment, England pinched one of his nipples and he almost screamed. That did it. As hard as it was, he sat up and almost made England fall on the floor before he stood up and stormed away.

  
     England sat back confused. What was going on? Did he do something wrong? Not knowing what to do, he just sat there until he heard France coming back. He was pacing fast and sat down in his previous spot, before he pressed something into England’s hand.

  
     “Please. Continue.”

  
     England looked down and saw what he was holding was a bottle of lube. Oh. He felt himself go redder than a tomato.

  
     “France!”

  
     “What? Come on, we were having such a good time.” Through half-lidded eyes, he stared cunningly at England and moved a hand to his knee. “Surely you would like to feel even better?” He moved his hand up his thigh and felt England shiver under his touch. “Make me feel better?” France had slowly closed in, now just a few centimetres away from England’s face and his hand right by his crotch. “You were very good at that you know.”

  
     England groaned from the pleasure only France’s voice could give him. Fuck that French accent of his. He had calmed down now, but refused to give in so easily.

  
     “France… what the hell are you doing? Talking like that.”

  
     “Just trying to act sexy for you, _cher_. I know you like it.” France was still staring at England seductively.

  
     “You’re always sexy.”

  
     That caught both of them without warning and they just stared surprised at the other. England had _not_ meant to say that, but it slipped through. His face got an expression of horror and a deep red colour as France opened his mouth in surprised joy.

  
     “I DID NOT FUCKING SAY THAT!”

  
     “Oh, but you did! You did!”

  
     “NO – THAT DID _NOT_ HAPPEN!”

  
     “It did, it did! _Angleterre_ thinks I’m sexy!”

  
     “FRANCE!”

  
     “You think I’m sexy!”

  
     “NO I DON’T!”

  
     “You think I’m sexy!”

  
     “STOP!”

  
     “Am I too sexy for you?”

  
     “STOP IT!”

  
     France looked England dead in the eye, suddenly serious, cocking an eyebrow and spoke slowly.

  
     “Make me.”

  
     The expression on England’s face witnessed about an inner conflict. He sat tense with clenched fists as France leant in, a sly smirk on his lips.

  
     “Hey, _Angleterre_?”

  
     “What?”

  
     “Do you think I’m sexy?”

  
     England glared back before he suddenly gripped France by his shoulders and pushed him violently down into the couch, in their previous positions. His eyes were full of lust and France felt his heart skip a beat looking into them. However, he got other things to worry about as eager lip met his own. With England pressing down between his legs and his hands coming around his sides, he could do little but moan as his eyes fluttered shut. England seemed even more determinate now than ever to make some very visible love bites when he once more moved his lips to France’s neck.

  
     England pulled back, panting, to unbutton his shirt and toss it to the floor. France began doing the same, although a bit more sloppy, so England helped him get it over his head before he leant down to press wet kisses all over France’s face; forehead, nose, eyebrow, cheek and chin. The other closed his eyes and giggled as he wrapped his arms around the body above him. England moved his hands down France’s stomach until he reached the trousers, then unzipped them and slowly dragged them off. He wasn’t wearing any pants. England huffed, but the tent in his own pants might have grown slightly by the sight. As if he knew, France smirked and cocked his hips. He was not prepared for England dragging his ass into his own lap and draping France’s feet over his shoulders. It was not the most comfortable position he had been in, but with a view like that, he was not about to complain.

  
     France’s cock grew even more as England took the bottle of lube and had some on his fingers. As England stuck a finger inside his hole, he arched his back and groaned from the unusual feeling. The sweat made his hair stick to his forehead and he breathed heavily as England moved his finger around, sticking it out and in before adding a second. The need to release was almost unbearable. France bit down on his lip and moved his hand down to his cock to try to relieve himself a bit, but it was swatted away. Angrily he looked up only to see England leaning his head down and take his prick into his mouth. He moaned loudly by the sensation, and it didn’t help that England added a third finger and began finger-fucking him while sucking him off. Moans and gasps stream out of his mouth and there was nothing he could do to stop it. England twirled his tongue around and went deeper down the shaft as his fingers thrusted inside. He timed his sucks with the rhythm of his hand, and soon France was no longer able to think straight, panting and moaning.

  
     Shivers ran through France’s body, and he arched his back and groaned in pleasure as England hit the spot with his fingers. England noticed and now that he had found what he had been looking for, he just continued. France lost himself completely and it didn’t take long for him to reach orgasm, releasing into England’s mouth.

  
     France sank back into the cushions, breathing heavily. England let go of him and wiped his mouth clean of what he hadn’t swallowed. He was sweaty and panting as well. France let out a deep breath before he chuckled.

  
     “You are much better at this when you are sober, _cher_.” England snorted. “But this was very unfair of you, _Angleterre_.” France put up a pout. “It wasn’t this I wanted, and you know it. I wanted you inside me, and reaching bliss together. Now you still haven’t gotten your release.”

  
     England scowled at him, a tad redder than before.

  
     “I _did_ intend to… do that, but as you could see, I was caught up.”

  
     “Well, I think we have to fix this.” France smirked at him and sat up. England got a quick kiss to the lips before France turned his attention to England’s zipper. He only opened it and did not take the trousers off. The tent in England’s pants was very visible. He bent down and pecked it through the fabric with his lips and the cock twitched by the contact. England’s breath hitched as France continued to give light kisses on his private parts.

  
     Eventually France lifted the hem on the pants and freed the throbbing member. He stuck out his tongue and gave a lick up the shaft. England let out a deep sigh. France continued to use his tongue and evaded putting the cock in his mouth only to make England desperate. He felt a hand slide up into his own hair and running through the long locks. The grip on his hair grew tighter as he used his lips to nibble teasingly at the head.

  
     “France… just – argh – get _on_ with it.”

  
     France let out a small laugh but decided he had teased England long enough and took the length in his mouth. He sucked as he slid up and down the shaft, making soft, slow movements with his tongue.

  
     England tried to stay quiet but with the things France was doing, it was nearly impossible. Towards the end of it, he was panting and moaning as France’s warmth and wetness surrounded him. And then France began touching him other places with his hands, places he knew England liked. It was too much and eventually England reached his high, releasing into France’s mouth.

  
     England sat back to steady himself, out of breath and panting. France pressed a soft kiss onto his stomach, trailing more up his chest until he reached his neck. Then he grinned evilly up at England.

  
     “No. Don’t you dare. France. No.” France gripped England’s arms to make sure he didn’t fight back before he leant in and sucked hard on his neck, determined to leave a mark. “France! Stop! I have a meeting tomorrow! What will the Prime minister say?! Stop it, you bloody idiot!” England tried to get loose but only fell back onto the sofa cushions with France on top of him. A scuffle ensued which ended with both of them falling onto the floor, laughing.

  
     France hoisted himself up on his elbow and looked teasingly at England.

  
     “I don’t see why I can’t give you one mark, when you have already given _me_ four.”

  
     “Five.”

  
     “Whatever. And the one I just gave you, was very small compared to those I have. You are being very unreasonable.”

  
     “ _Because,_ I have a bloody meeting tomorrow. And as you know, my Prime minister is very nosy, and will definitely be asking questions. Questions I won’t have an answer to.”

  
     “Of course you do! Just tell him you made a visit to your handsome, gorgeous, beautiful French country of a lover yesterday, and he was simply too much for you.”

  
     England snorted.

  
     “As I would ever be overpowered by a Frenchman.”

  
     “That was not what you said last night, _cher_ ” France smirked.

  
     “Just you wait! Next time I will be topping!”

  
     “I’m counting on it, _amour_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I guess I could still manage to write more of this, I have worked out what's going to happen afterwards. Only writing more upon request though. Please let me now if you liked it and/or want more :)


	8. Public love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new meeting. How will the couple go about their relationship now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got around to write this, sorry if it's a bit rushed. It's always clever to write fanfiction instead of studying for your exams.

     It was raining outside. Of course it was. A dark, grey sky was letting down everything it had and raindrops fell hard on the windows. It was in times like this it was comfortable sitting inside on the sofa with warm blankets, a cup of tea in your hands, and enjoying the warmth and soft light emitting from the cosy fireplace. What made it even better was having your French lover lying asleep between your legs.

  
     England allowed himself a soft smile as he brought a hand down to comb through the other’s silky locks. The rise and fall of France’s chest on his stomach as well as his slow and steady breathing was extremely soothing, and England found this was exactly what he needed after a long day at work and getting thoroughly soaked on the way home. France. His France with the small stubble on his chin and his sharp nose and broad shoulders and golden, flowing hair, always perfect. A few noises escaped the sleeping figure as he shifted slightly before settling again.

  
     The British nation picked up the book he had left on the table in favour for his tea, and began where he had left of. He was reading _Twenty Years After_ as he had already finished the first book, _The Three Musketeers_ , the night before. It was nice with some literature to remember the old days by. These books were particularly amusing as they were historical and written during France’s Romanticism. The advantage of being as old as they were, was that he could recall all these prominent figures and the overly flamboyant way they all – including himself – dressed at the time. Well, at least it wasn’t as bad as it was during the Baroque. Seriously, those wigs were rat’s nests. And the horrible perfume covering the stank of sweat – this was before common hygiene was known. At least it had been a tad better out on the seas, with the fresh air and all. Thinking back on all that, France had definitely been the most excessive when it had come to fashion. England snorted as recalled a particularly intense outfit involving pink feathers and a matching jacket. Thankfully, they were past that period.

  
     Looking down at the sleeping France again, England felt a few tugs at his heart. He had no idea how much he had wanted this. It had only been a couple of weeks, but this was definitely something he could settle doing for the rest of his days. Forever in other words. He still had some trouble believing _France_ would want someone like him, but he couldn’t deny the fact that he _did_ , so he’d sort of come to terms with it. As for France, well, he wouldn’t use the word perfect to describe anything, but _he_ came awfully close.

  
     England was just generally content with his life right now, even though he had a thought nagging in the back of his mind. Nobody knew of their relationship yet. Were things going to change when the other nations found out? Even _he_ knew they could not keep this a secret forever. And he was not sure he really wanted to, it was just that he was afraid of the possible reactions and outcomes they would get. If he handled it wrong, maybe France would not want to be with him anymore. What if he fucked up? And then there was the question of whether France truly wanted people to know of their relationship or not. France was usually so straightforward when it came to love that England was surprised he had not told the whole world yet. Was that something he should worry about? Or was France just simply being considerate to his wishes?

  
     The next world meeting was to be held in Greece the next day, and they would meet everyone for the first time since they got together. England was extremely nervous and anxious they may find out. Would they be able to tell by just looking at them that something had changed? He certainly hoped not. Who knew what all of this would lead to?

  
     England sighed deeply before he went back to reading his book. He would have to worry about all of that tomorrow; right now, he just wanted to enjoy himself and perhaps get a few soft kisses from his sleeping lover when he woke up.

  
     The next day both of the nations awoke early so they would catch their flight. France had of course spent the night in the other’s bed and so they would be travelling together to Greece’s place for the meeting. England had managed to persuade France into taking a flight instead of going by train, which would probably have taken days. So instead, they could make the trip in just about four hours. France might just have gone along with it for the chances of another massage by England, but neither of them would have anything against that. It had taken England a while to get used to their new relationship, but after a few days, he had calmed down and started to relax around the other in a more intimate and close way. He had become used to exchanging kisses when leaving for meetings and work, and walking close down the street, perhaps holding hands, and generally just being close to the other.

  
     So when France asked to hold his hand during the take-off, he did not protest at all. He even brushed his thumb over the back of his hand when France seemed the most nervous.

  
     “Hey, did you hear about what Russia’s Prime Minister said the other day, frog?” France visibly relaxed his shoulders as England began to talk. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth when he answered.

  
     “ _Oui_ , I did. They are finally reacting to always being the villains in _Amerique_ ’s movies. I am amazed they even managed to ignore that until now. One would have thought something like that would have earned _Amerique_ a sanction earlier.”

  
     England chuckled.

  
     “Indeed. Had it only been that. Unfortunately Russia thinks everyone in the West is acting hostile towards him at the moment, with the rearmament of NATO and excluding him from things.”

  
     “Ah, _oui_ , this meeting will prove to be very interesting indeed, I am sure. Still, to call it a new cold war is a bit excessive I believe.”

  
     “We are getting too old for this, frog.” England sighed and sagged his shoulders. France replied with a sly grin.

  
     “You perhaps are too old, with your grumpy-grandpa-attitude; _I,_ however, am still in my best years and as handsome as ever.”

  
     “Hah! You wish. And there is nothing wrong with my attitude, I’ll have you know. I am always perfectly reasonable, and you are older than me!”

  
     The plane landed, without complications, safely in Athens International Airport, and the pair continued past the baggage claim – this was just a short meeting – no need for spending the night at a hotel. Hopefully, they would be done by six or eight in the evening and just in time to catch the last plane home. They had decided to spend the night at France’s, in Paris, this time.

  
     Walking past the customs as well, they entered the area where all the busses, trains, and taxies were ready to take people into the capital, which also was where the meeting would take place. France and England were standing side by side looking at the boards showing departure and arrival times.

  
     “Perhaps we should take a taxi instead?”

  
     “Mmm, _oui_ , but that _will_ be more expensive, _cher_. You don’t see a bus that will be there by twelve?”

  
     “No, but we could take the train and then walk the last bit. We should make it on time.”

  
     “Ah, but _Angleterre_ , then we would have to _walk_.”

  
     “It is not as if it would do you any bad, love. I am sure you could use the exercise.”

  
     “Look who is talking! You _do_ know I have more muscle than you?”

  
     “Well, at least _I_ am not a lazy piece of–”

  
     “Hey, Francis, Arthur!” They both looked up towards the loud voice to see the nation walking with hurried steps towards them through the moving mass of people around.

  
     “Emma, _bonjour_ , it is good to see you, _cherie_. How are you?” They both put on a friendly face as Belgium walked up to them, smiling and waving. France kissed both her cheeks as a greeting.

  
     “All’s well with me. My brothers and I just arrived, they’re fetching our bags while I went ahead to get a cab.”

  
     “Oh? Spending the night?”

  
     “Yes, Arthur, we didn’t bother with catching a late plane. We figured we would be tired after the meeting and travelling only makes it worse. Besides, we rarely spend time together these days, so a few hours in Athens wouldn’t exactly hurt.” She shrugged. “How about you two? Going back tonight?” The two of them exchanged almost unnoticeable glances before France answered.

  
     “ _Oui_ , I will be going back to Paris tonight. I am most comfortable at home so I believe that will be the best for me after a meeting like this. I can only presume it is going to be absolutely dreadful as well as boring and unsettling. A bad night’s sleep in a questionable hotel room does not sound appealing to me I’m afraid. Besides; at home I can cosy up to E–eehhh my pillows with a glass of wine.” France hoped neither of them caught the almost slip-up, and flashed a smile at the female nation in front of him. She smiled back.

  
     “Well that’s one way to see it. You going back too, Arthur?”

  
     “Indeed.” He tried to seem indifferent, as if he did not know what France had been about to say seconds earlier. It was almost embarrassing. Was this really going to work? They had only just met _one_ nation yet. What would the outcome be when they had to converse with all of them? Thankfully, France did not have the opportunity to say anything else, because right then they were interrupted by Netherlands and Luxembourg arriving with the bags.

  
     “Oh, hi, Francis, Arthur.” Netherlands came up by his sister and put down the two bags he was holding. One presumably Belgium’s. Luxembourg stopped right by his big brother’s side.  “Are you on your way to the meeting as well? Have you ordered bus tickets yet?”

  
     “Yes and actually no, we have not. We had not yet decided if we should get there by train or bus, but regardless, I think we should be quick about it; we don’t have long until the meeting starts. How did you plan on getting there if I may ask?” England answered the other nation politely with a hit of a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He believed he knew where this conversation was going. France chuckled softly beside him. He had figured it out as well.

  
     “We are getting a cab, it is quicker that way. Why don’t the two of you join us?” Belgium sighed resigned and shock her head at her brother’s words. France was quick to answer as he brought his hand up to rest lightly on England’s shoulder, keeping his eyes on Netherlands.

  
     “We would be absolutely delighted to. Going Dutch then I suppose?” France was grinning, obviously proud of himself and England could barely contain a snicker at the joke. Even Belgium and Luxembourg cracked a smile. Netherlands was not so amused.

  
     “Well, aren’t you two in a good mood today?” He replied with a flat voice. “But if it isn’t any bother to you, I would prefer it that way.”

  
     “Of course, we were just messing with you, Abel. Honestly, we prefer it that way as well. And the more, the cheaper, right?” England smiled and turned towards the exit where the cabs were awaiting new travellers.  The other nations grabbed their baggage and followed him through the mass of people moving around.

  
     It did not take long before the three bags was stuffed in the boot of a cab and the five nations crammed together inside. Netherlands and Luxembourg got the two seats by the driver and Belgium sat between the couple in the back. After a few explanations of the route, they were finally on their way to the meeting. Traffic was slow but somehow they reached the official building on time, where they split the bill evenly as previously agreed on. Together they walked up to the door before England halted hesitantly.

  
     “Excuse me, Belgium, Netherlands, do you mind if I could get a second to talk to the frog?” He spoke with a plain face, betraying no feelings of his. The two addressed exchanged a brief glance before Belgium smiled.

  
     “Of course, we’ll just go place our bags somewhere safe. See you back inside!” With that, the trio left the couple alone as they entered the building. France and England remained outside. The first studied the other curiously, waiting for him to speak his mind.

  
     “So, err… should we have thought this through or… I don’t know, just… don’t, eh, _do_ anything suspicious all right?” England couldn’t look straight at France, he kept glancing over to a potted plant near the entrance. With a careful look around, to see if any of the other nations was about, France reached out softly took a hold of England’s hand. While he brushed his thumb over it, he spoke with a reassuring voice.

  
     “Relax, no one will notice anything. We will just act as we always do, and always will. We have just spent quite some time with Belgium, Netherlands and Luxembourg, and they did not even question anything. This will be fine.” France smiled reassuringly. If England did not want the other nations to know of their new relationship, he would adjust to that wish. Even if he wanted nothing more than to bring his lover into a big kiss right in front of everyone so they all could see just how much they meant for each other.

  
     “Hmm, well, I suppose you’re right …” England still looked a bit uneasy, but shifted his hand so that he held France’s in his own. With a small smile, he brought the back of his neighbour’s hand up to press a light kiss there, just a meaningful gesture to let France know he loved him. With a wink, he let go and proceeded to enter the main entrance of the building, leaving France slightly blushing on the steps.

  
     France smiled to himself while he waited for the red in his cheeks to disappear before he joined the others. England was really sweet like that. Whenever he did those kind of things, France could feel a good fluttering sensation in his chest. He had, during these past weeks, become fully aware that he loved England dearly, and was loved back. There truly was no better feeling in the world than that.

  
     The heat in his cheeks subsided, he sighed heavenly and followed where the others had gone; through the front door.

  
     Inside it seemed as though every single nation was gathered in the reception, engaged in several loud conversations, making quite the noise. It was disorganized and crowed and France did not have a clue of what was going on. He could see England standing halfway across the room, talking to Switzerland and Vietnam. France managed to resist from the urge to go over there and give the other a _real_ kiss. Instead, he made his way over to Germany, as he would be the most likely to have a certain control over things.

  
     Germany was currently having a heated conversation with Turkey it seemed, with Sweden and China listening in.

  
     “What do you mean; you don’t know where he is? The meeting was supposed to begin five minutes ago.” You could feel the frustration radiate off him. France nearly turned around and walked back, because he knew he had been skipping out of a few of his duties these past weeks to the benefit of spending time with England, and he knew that to encounter Germany in this mood would mean nothing but trouble for him right now. However, he had a certain responsibility to maintain as the influential nation he was – and he was just a tad curious to the current tumults imprinting the area – so he pushed past some unimportant micro nations who had snuck in, and came to stand by his fellow European countries.

  
     “Why am _I_ supposed to keep track of him? I am not his caretaker, I don’t have control over everything he does.” Turkey crossed his arms over his chest, frowning back at Germany. France decided to interrupt at that point, and with a charming smile, he spoke.

  
     “Excuse me, _messieurs_ , but I do believe there is supposed to be a meeting here today, or am I completely mistaken?”

  
     “ _Guten Tag_ , France.” Germany looked up, relaxing slightly from his tense form. “And yes, there is _supposed_ to be a meeting here, but no one is able to locate Greece I’m afraid.”

  
     “Well then, we should just start the meeting without him, it’s no worse than that.”

  
     “I wish, but no one has any idea of which room we were supposed to use, and I can’t find any personnel to ask. This whole thing is a disaster! Whose idea is it to have meetings at Greece’s? It always ends up like this anyway.”

  
     “That is so true! You should kick him out of the EU!”

  
     “And let you join instead, huh, Turkey?!”

  
     “ _Messieurs_ , please.” France sighed. “At least Greece must be here _somewhere_ , so let’s just have everyone go search for him.”

  
     “ _Hola_! Everyone! I found Greece!” A loud voice rang out over the crowd and the sigh of relief that followed was audible. Germany quickly made his way over to Spain, indicating for him to show the way. No one would like to be in Greece’s place right now, and neither did anyone dare follow the fuming German.

  
     It turned out Greece had fallen asleep in the meeting room while waiting for the other nations to show. Luckily, the whole affair was cut short because Germany meant they had already wasted enough time on him.

  
     After everyone had slowly filled into the meeting room and sat down, Greece began with the usual opening speech the host country was obligated to hold before they got to do anything productive. As was expected of Greece, the speech went on far too long for everyone’s tastes, and a few nations even began nodding off.

  
     England was lazily looking around the room while drawing small roses in his notebook. The location they were in could almost be seen as an auditorium due to the size of it; Greece stood in front of the gathering, which surrounded him in a half circle. He could see France lying with his head on the bench before him, blond locks sprawled out on the surface, two rows down and a bit to the left. The words in the speech turned into a calming background noise as England got lost in thought staring at the back of France’s head. He really was fantastic. So charming and handsome and kind and England loved to argue with him. He almost got a bit dizzy just realizing _again_ that they were together. Life had its bright spots sometimes.

  
     A sharp pain in his side made England quickly shift his attention to his left. There Spain was, smiling broadly at him, pencil resting on his cheek. England was unsure whether he should blush for being caught, or pale from the fear that maybe Spain had caught on.

  
     “W-what is it?”, was the first thing that came out of him in his panicked state. He swallowed and tried to act rationally. “Did you want anything, Spain?”

  
     “Oh nothing, _Inglaterra_ , just checking if you were paying attention. It is rude to ignore someone when they are speaking, you know.” He winked. Fuck, does he know?

  
     “Well, clearly you weren’t paying attention either, hypocrite.” England straightened up and fastened his grip around his pencil, which had gone limp in his hand, and turned to Greece, still talking in front of everyone. “So I suggest you do that and mind you own damn business.”

  
     Spain just shrugged his shoulders, smile still plastered on his face, and turned to look forward as well. That whole event made England feel uneasy during the rest of the meeting, so he hardly caught anything Greece, or anyone else for that matter, said. He tried not to look at France too much as to not alert anyone else. Was he perhaps embarrassed of his own feelings; was that it? Did he feel as though his feelings towards the other nation made him look weaker? Or did love in general make him weak? He was still a bit scared of all this, and that infuriated him to no end, because France loved him and he loved France, so there was nothing stopping them from doing anything. But what if the others would think less of him because of this?

  
     Ever so discreetly France had fished out a small pocket mirror, which he was now holding so that he could watch England a few rows behind him. He seemed awfully bothered by something, with a frown on his face, and clearly not paying attention to Germany, who had taken over for Greece. France hoped it was nothing. Hopefully England was not rethinking their relationship. France felt a chill run down his back and a nauseating feeling settling in the bottom of his stomach. Was that the reason England wanted to keep everything a secret? Perhaps England thought all of this was stupid and figured he did not love France after all? Did he finally realize France was not worth his time and how awful a person he really was?

  
     France blinked a few times and then concentrated on what Germany was talking about. Of course that was just nonsense. He knew England loved him. He could be lying, but why would he do that? France knew he had to stop overthinking things, or their relationship would never work. He peeked in the mirror once more, and saw Spain sitting next to England with a huge smile on his face. Fuck. Had he said anything he should not have? France frowned. That _might_ be the reason of England’s sudden bad mood.

  
     After going through topics such as climate change, data security and global internet access, they all got a longed-for break. England filed out with the current of nations, into a hallway and then to a cafeteria in the room across the one they had the meeting in. Very subtly, he tried to catch a flash of France, who had already exited.

  
     The cafeteria was plain and a few decades old, with brown and yellow colours and ferns in the corners. Lamps hung from the ceiling, a few of them flashing due to too old light bulbs, which needed changing. Small, round tables were shattered about on the floor, and nations had already begun to occupy them. On the left side of the room, there was a cold counter filled with sandwiches and another table with hot and cold drinks for the taking.

  
     Spotting France standing engaged in a conversation with Germany, England made his way over to an unoccupied table with a sandwich and a cup of tea. France would come after he was finished with the other European nation. And sure enough; after about five minutes wait, France came walking towards his table with a sandwich of his own and a cup of coffee. He pulled out a chair and sat down next to the island nation.

  
     “At least Greek food have a certain standard. Not like the rest of this building. And where _is_ the personnel?” France grimaced before he looked down to take a bite of the bread. England snorted as he finished his own lunch and began sipping what was left of the tea.

  
     “The sandwich was quite all right.” France hummed in agreement.

  
     “By the way, _Angleterre_ , _Allemagne_ asked me to talk to you about something.” He looked up apologetic and England knew he would regret it when he narrowed his eyes suspiciously and replied with caution.

  
     “About what?”

  
     “The Brexit.” England let out a deep sigh and sat calmly back in his chair.

  
     “Great, not this again. He has been bothering me for months about that. I already told him: there is going to be a vote on it later in June, I am sure he can wait a bit longer for my final decision.”

  
     “ _Sil vous plait_ , _Angleterre_ , reconsider this. I agree that the union is not working the way it should. There are so many thing we could do different and should change, but we cannot do that without you. The EU would suffer and so would you. I understand your reasons, and I want to do something about it. I have already planned to come with a new set of rules next year, so please, will you not wait just a little while longer? Just let your politicians take the vote into consideration or something.”

  
     “I am sorry, France, but there is nothing I can do about it now. My people will vote, and then whatever happens, happens.” England offered a weak smile. “Hopefully, it will be for the best.”  
     France sighed.

  
     “Everything is going to shit right now, you know, so I do not blame you. The agreement with Turkey is a mistake, and I hope it will not last. But it is not just the EU, though. The whole world is a mess.” France a dramatic gesture, with closed eyes, to empathise his point. His posture changed quickly however, when he opened an eye, looking at England, and smirked. “Thankfully it’s not all bad though. At least I can enjoy a most magnificent view from time to time. And the company is not completely terrible either.”

  
     “France…” England hissed through gritted teeth.

  
     “Of course I am talking about a stroll down the Seine among my citizen, if you did not catch that.” He flashed a smile.

  
     “You’re a bloody idiot, do you know that?”

  
     “Ah, but you like me.”

  
     “Will you shut up? What if people heard?”

  
     “Oh please, I always tease you. They won’t notice.”

  
     “I know, it’s just that I do not know how _I_ will react if you keep doing that.”

  
     “You flatter me.”

  
     “Not at all.”

  
     “Hey, you two! Are we interrupting?” Prussia and Spain walked up to their table and sat down with them. “All other tables were taken, so we thought we could join you. Hope you don’t mind.” Prussia grinned and winked very indiscreetly at France.

  
     “It’s quite all right. There _are_ a lot of nations here today.” England smiled politely to the pair of friends, who were smiling a tad too intensive.

  
     “So, _Francia_ , what have you been doing these last weeks? We have hardly seen you at all, we need to catch up soon, don’t you agree?”

  
     “Or maybe we should ask _who_ you’ve been doing?” Prussia added with another wink.

  
     “Really, _Prusse_? You have nothing better to do?” France glared unimpressed at his friends. If Spain had been as bad as Prussia, there was no wonder England had been in a bad mood earlier. He knew he needed to have a talk with them; otherwise, they would never shut up about it, and possibly ruin something in the process. Now was not the time though. “Why don’t we all talk about _Espagne_ ’s love-life instead? Or how about _Prusse_ ’s. Oh, _pardon moi, cher_ , forgot you don’t have one.”

  
     Spain chuckled good-heartedly while Prussia looked deadpanned at their friend, and England could not help but smile a little.

  
     “I almost forgot you were so funny.” Prussia made a fake smile.

  
     “ _Jajaja_ , he is kidding.” Spain laughed. “ _Oye_ , we have missed you, _Francia_ , and I believe we have some stuff to catch up on.” Here he turned to look at England, who took the hint and, after a few seconds of hesitation, excused himself from the table.

  
     Spain and Prussia just sat back, grinning and looking expectantly at the other nation. France could contain a smile himself.

  
     “So it finally happened.” Spain shook his head. “It’s about time you know. I think both of you have been pining for each other at least a hundred years now.”

  
     “More like a thousand. Seriously, France, about time. Now tell us what happened.” They both leant forward expectantly on the small table. France simply chuckled.

  
     “Relax, _mes amis._ I will tell you later, now is not the time. We are still not public about us, and it would be in both of yours best interest to keep quiet about it, _comprenez-vous_?”

  
     “Really? We thought you would have announced it by now, especially you. Why do you need to keep it at secret?” Prussia looked puzzled as France sighed and leant back in his chair, keeping his voice down and combed his fingers through his golden locks.

  
     “I-it’s complicated. _Angleterre_ does not want others to know yet, and to tell you the truth, I cannot keep from wondering if he is ashamed of me, or-or if he does not really love me after all. It kind of bothers me actually.”

  
     “I am sure _Inglaterra_ would not conceive you like that, _amigo_. I am sure there is a logical explanation behind it. Perhaps you should talk to him about it?”

  
     “ _Ja_ , communication is the key to everything, right? If there is something you feel uncomfortable with, you should let him hear it and not keep it to yourself. You are supposed to be in a relationship with each other. He won’t leave just because you want people to know about the two of you.”

  
     “ _Oui_ , I suppose you are right.” France looked down at his coffee while his friends began chatting about something else, already dreading the future conversation he was going to have with his lover.

  
     England walked away from the table with the three friends and began crossing the cafeteria towards the exit. He had a speech about the market economy later after the break that he might as well prepare. The loud summing from all the chatter in the cafeteria filled his ears as he walked by the different nations sitting by the tables. Standing by the door, he found two of his friends talking together. Slowing down, he could hear the conversation was about fish. No shock there.

  
     “Have you ever tried Arctic char? That and brown trout are quite common in my lakes and both are good fish.”

  
     “I can’t say that I have. Although brown trout are common at my place as well.”

  
     “You should try it sometime. I will arrange a shipment when I get home, and then you can tell me what you think.”

  
     “I certainly will. Oh, hello, England. How are you today?” Japan noticed him approaching them, and Norway turned to face him as the other spoke.

  
     “Hello, Japan, Norway. I am fine, thanks, and you? Are you planning on expanding your export to Japan, Norway?” The British nation smiled.

  
     “I have to find _some_ way to replace my oil money, and my salmon _is_ the best in the world. But no, this purely a friendly exchange of cuisine.”

  
     “Yes, I hear your oil is running out?”

  
     “Staring to at least. I presume my reserves will be empty in about twenty years’ time. And although fish is my largest export, I don’t have unlimited access to it, so I have to start thinking new if I want this to work out.”

  
     “But you already have trillions of your currency in banks and properties all over the world from all the oil export. Could you not use some of that?” Japan asked curiously.

  
     “I could, but that money is to ensure the pension of my future generations. And those will run out some time too, if I keep using them. It is better to find a reliable source of income first. _Bedre føre var enn etter snar_.” The Norwegian nation shrugged his shoulders.

  
     “Better safe than sorry, right?” England received a curt nod form the other nation. Suddenly remembering his current predicament, England briefly debated asking for advice before he decided to trust in his friend. It did not hurt to ask someone who had experience in the matter.

  
     “Hey, Norway, what do you think about the EU? Are you happy staying where you are now that you might not relay on your oil anymore?”

  
     Norway paused and studied him for a moment before answering with a sigh.

  
     “This is about Brexit, isn’t it? Look, it doesn’t matter what I think of it. There are advantages in staying, but also in leaving. The way the EU is now, is not something I want a part of. But that’s because it would seriously fuck with my productions in fishing and farming and most likely ruin my economy completely. For you there are other reasons, and if you leave, you are not guaranteed the sort of deal in the EEU as I am, so you need to consider different possibilities and outcomes. But I don’t see much use in anything for you now when there is a popular vote coming up anyway.”

  
     “Yes, I am quite aware, but thank you for the advice anyway; I just wanted another opinion on the matter.” England gave a small smile before continuing.  “Excuse me, I will not occupy you any long and let you get back to your fish. Japan, Norway, pleasure as always.” He nodded before stepping out through the door and into the hallway. A few paces down he could see a few nations standing and talking together. He spotted both Italians, Czech Republic and Lithuania. They had probably wanted to escape the loud noises of the cafeteria. That thought brought his mind back to what he had left there: France with his friends. No doubt, the two of them were questioning France; hopefully they hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary yet and England would not be a topic of conversation. And hopefully, France did not slip up. He had a trust in the French nation that he would not say anything deliberately.

  
     England entered the meeting room again and was on his way to his seat to retrieve his documents, when he heard the door click shut behind him. Turning he saw his lover standing by the door, hand on the doorknob. The blue suit he was wearing stood in contrast to the white shirt and complemented his eyes. England was not sure, but he thought he saw a hint of nervousness in those eyes, and his figure was a tad tense he observed. England furrowed his eyebrows in an unsure worry.

  
     “France, is everything all right?” The nation in question left the door and walked with slow steps towards the other, with fumbling hands, clearly uneasy.

  
     “Ah, _oui_ , I just need to speak to you for a moment.” France stopped in front of him, meeting his eyes. “It’s about us…”

  
     England raised his eyebrows. Had France gotten cold feet? Did he regret their relationship? A feeling of dread welled up inside him and his blood froze in anticipation for what he might hear. France might decide to leave him. Still, he spoke with a collected tone.

  
     “What about us?”

  
     “Well, err, _Espange_ and _Prusse_ already knows about us.”

  
     “What?! How did they find out?”

  
     “I told them.”

  
     England stared blankly at the other nation. He could feel himself getting angrier by the second. He felt betrayed. They had not agreed on this.

  
     “What the hell do you mean you told them? Why would you do that? I thought we had agreed on something here.” France stood up straighter.

  
     “ _Oui_ , but they are my friends and I don’t see the harm in letting people know about us, _Angleterre_. Are you really so ashamed of me that you don’t want people to know?” Hurt flashed in his beautiful, blue eyes. “Is it that you don’t want anyone to know that you are together with someone like me? Are you ashamed of being with me, is that it?” The last words were strained and England swore he could see tears forming for a second before they were blinked away. He was speechless.

  
     “W-what? No, France it’s-”

  
     “Then you better come up with a damn good explanation, because I can’t possibly think of any other reason to hide it.”

  
     England swallowed hard. Had France really thought that he was ashamed of him?

  
     “I-I am not ashamed, France, I’m just … I don’t … I think I’m a bit … scared.” He looked down. To admit to have any weaknesses was hard for him. Which was why he found this whole problem difficult to begin with, he realized. “I-I guess I’m afraid the others will look at me differently, as if I’m weak or frail or spineless or something like that…” He trailed off. Looking up he saw France staring at him with a surprised look on his face. The French nation cleaned his throat before he spoke softly.

  
     “I’m sorry I did not realize that. I mean, you are Great Brittan, you’re _Angleterre_. I never even considered you being afraid of anything. Because you have always been so strong, and I have always believed that _you_ can do anything. And I still do.” He took a brief pause where he looked England deeply in the eyes. “You will never look weak to me, and admitting you love someone certainly does not make you weak. And who do you need to prove anything to? We have had our time of glory and adventure; I think we deserve to be happy now. I wish you did as well.” France sighed. “But if you still wish to be silent about this, I will not tell anyone. I only wish everyone knew how much I love you, and only wish you could feel the same.” France shook his head resigned and turned to leave. England did nothing but stared at his back as he left through the door he had come in through only minutes before. When the door clicked shut, it turned a switch in his head. He had fucked up. He had made a royal mistake. Panic hit him and his heart sped up it’s pace. England felt as if everything was over. By saying love made him weaker, he had automatically said _France_ made him weaker, and he realized he had been more concerned with himself and how he was portrayed, than how France felt about this. It was almost the same wasn’t it? To say he was afraid of people thinking he was weak with France and being ashamed of him. He had fucked up everything. The only thing on his mind was to find France as he ran to the door and tore it open. However, there he was forced to a halt as Germany and a few other nation stood in his way.

     “Ah, England, there you are. The meeting is resuming now. Do you have everything prepared?”

  
     England barely heard what was said, as his mind was racing and his eyes too busy scanning the nations in the hallway for long, golden lock and a blue suit. He had no luck in his quick search.

  
     “Err… yes, I do.” Nations began entering beside him but he could not see France anywhere.

  
     “England? Are you coming? We are staring now.”

  
     England could do nothing more than shuffle over to his seat, stuffed in-between nations, still looking for France. He felt a great relief when, after a while, he saw him sit down in his previous spot, but soon became restless and anxious when he found out he had no way of getting to him.

  
     The meeting resumed with China, starting when everyone had found their places and calmed down. England missed most of what the Asian said; he was too busy worrying over France to pay attention. He could see that the blonde-haired person in front of him sat slumped over in his chair, and the thought of himself being the reason for France’s low-spirited thoughts stung in his chest. You could clearly see the other nation was hurt and felt gloomy. All too soon, it became England’s turn to talk to the gathering if nations.

  
     His stomach turned in uncomfortable ways as he walked down to the podium. All eyes but France’s were on him as he began his speech. He felt as if he was about to throw up. Despite it all, he got through it and was about to finish when he sighed and took a pause from his talking. Fuck everything; he had to set this right.

  
     “Before I finish off I would like to say something personal for a moment.” Taking another pause, already regretting his choice, he looked up at France again, and this time he could see curious eyes fastened on him. Hushed whispering began filling the silence. “It has come to my attention that I have behaved selfish and been a bit of a fool recently. I have been too busy thinking about trivial matters and not paid enough attention to what I already have. I guess people often do stupid things when they’re in love.” Like this for example, incredibly stupid. As he cast his eyes downwards and tried to get his rampaging heart under control, he heard the whispers resume, and this time even louder. Everyone seemed confused by his words and struggled to understand what the hell was going on. “I used to think love made you weak, that those feelings was just another thing that could get you down. When you’re in love, you have just so much more to lose. And the reason I’m saying this is because I don’t want to lose it. And in that case I can argue that love does not make you weak, quite the opposite actually. It gives you something else to fight for and the power to do it. It is not a liability, but a privilege.” England closed his eyes and took a deep breath before the final words. The room was now completely quiet, not even the scrape of a chair moving was heard. He found the pair of blue eyes in the audience that made his knees feel weak, and held the gaze as he gripped tighter around the microphone. “And I am fucking privileged to have you, France.”

  
     It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. With his eyes still fixed on the French nation, England could faintly see a teardrop streaming down his cheek and into the stubble at the chin. Suddenly he felt self-conscious and felt his own cheeks heating up. It didn’t get any better when France leant over the row and shouted at him with a huge smile adorning his face.

  
     “ _Je t’aime, je t’aime aussi, Angleterre_!”

  
     “Oh, shut up!” England tried to act angry but could not contain the smile threatening to take over his facial expression. He clean his throat before he continued. “Now, I believe we have a plane to catch, so unfortunately we will be cutting the meeting short. Excuse us.” He placed the mic down and nodded to France before he strode out the door to his right. Most of the nations sat back dumbfounded and a few were even gaping. Then Spain and Prussia began howling with laughter.

  
     “ _Herrje, Frankreich_ , you _have_ to keep him now!”

  
     The only thing France could do was smile.

  
     “Don’t worry, _ami_ , I am never letting go.” He hurriedly stood up and made his way past the nation on the same row. While he practically danced across the floor, he talked aloud so everyone could hear him. “Try not to miss me too much, though. I’ll be going home to Paris now. The city of love! With my _boyfriend,_ my _lover_ , my _petit ami_ , my-”

  
     “For heaven’s sake, we get it, France!” Germany shouted from his place on the front row. France blew him a kiss before exiting the same way as England.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have more planned, but I felt like I couldn't add more to this chapter when it's already longer than the previous ones. Hopefully, I will be quicker with it now that I'm alomst done with my final exam.  
> Do still tell me what you think about the fic, and kudos are very much appreciated.


	9. Love you so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's quite obvious I was struck by a lot of feelings for France in this chapter. He deserves to be loved.  
> And look at that; this shit only took like a month (perhaps a bit longer).

            When France entered the hallway, he saw England leaning against the wall to his left, arms crossed. He glanced up when the door to the meeting room shut closed behind the French nation. Determined, he strode up to him and France observed a flash of nervousness in his eyes for a second before he spoke.

  
            “So, are we-”

  
            England was harshly interrupted by a pair of lips crashing against his own. France pinned his body tight against the wall and franticly gripped his lover to hold closer. Pressing sloppy kisses on England’s mouth and neck, he tried to speak.

  
            “I love you, have I told you that?”

  
            England’s own arms came up to hold around his neck, fingers threading in soft, long hair, bringing them even closer together, and kissed back with eager. He caressed his cheek with his thumb and dragged it slowly over the slight stubble.

  
            “Just about four times today.” England groaned as their abdomens brushed together. They clung on to the other, as if they could not get enough of each other’s presence. “Oh, I could just take you right here and now, France.” He could feel France shiver at the words and seized the opportunity to switch their positions, now with France pressed against the wall.

  
            “And I would gladly let you.” France smiled coyly before capturing his lips in a long, soft and desperate kiss before he pulled away and spoke again. “If we did not have a plane to catch.” He let his lips ghost over the pair in front of him, barely touching, and slowly pulling back when England tried to meet him. England growled.

  
            “Fuck the bloody plane, I want you.” England pressed closer and whispered in his ear.

  
            France felt his knees threatening to give out beneath him and he sighed heavenly before capturing England’s earlobe with his lips and sucking gently on it.

  
            “The others would probably see us when the meeting is over and they came into the hallway, though.” France decided to tease and replied in a low and sensual voice, eyes half-lidded.

  
            “Let them watch for all I bloody care, I don’t give a damn as long as I am with you.” England spoke softly, kissing his cheek slowly, and France nearly melted from the tenderness in those rather crass words. He felt his chest swell and a heart-warming sensation filled him. “ _Je t’aime,_ France, don’t ever forget that.”

  
            France let out a short, half-strangled laugh and hugged the Englishman even tighter as he nuzzled into the side of his head. He felt England place small kisses on his temple and arms coming around his waist.

  
            “If you keep saying things like that I think I might cry, _Angleterre_.”

  
            England did not reply but continued pressing kisses down his face until he reached his mouth. They met in several kisses that said everything between them that went unspoken, England sucking softly at France’s lower lip. Everything was slow and meaningful, just the two of them, existing closely together. With their eyes shut, the only thing they sensed was each other.

  
            That was until a loud voice broke the silence.

  
            “Hah! They’re still going at it!” Abruptly freezing, the pair turned their heads to see Prussia standing, holding the door wide open, and grinning. Turning back to the meeting room, he shouted once more. “You owe me 10 euros, Spain!” They could hear the Spanish nation through the open door.

  
            “What? They haven’t started fucking yet?”

  
            The couple, who had been caught, stared unimpressed at their fellow European nation.

  
            “Ever heard of knocking?”

  
            “Have you not a meeting to attend, _Prusse_?”

  
            “ _Ja,_ hang on; I just have to take a picture for my blog.” They did not even have the chance to react properly before an audible click was heard and a smartphone quickly vanished into a pair of jeans. Of course he would wear jeans to a world meeting. Prussia winked at them before he disappeared into the meeting room again, the door falling shut behind him, and the buzzing of talking voices vanished with him – obviously nothing was progressing much. The couple pressed against the wall in the hallway, let out a sigh.  

  
            “We should probably catch that plane.” England released his hold around the French nation and stepped back.

  
            “ _Oui_ , that would be wise.” France hurriedly thread his fingers through his hair to comb out the locks in disarray and fix his now messed up hairstyle. “After all, the faster we get on that plane, the faster we arrive at my place.” France grinned slyly at England. “Which means we can faster get into my bed.”

  
            England shook his head with a fond smile on his face.

  
            “What am I going to do with you?”

  
            “Oh, I can think of a few things.” France winked.

  
            Needless to say, they arrived at the airport quickly after that and boarded the plane to Paris. They held hands during the flight and England even planted a couple of light kisses on France’s cheek and temple during some turbulence when they flew over Italy. The French nation still dreaded flying, but his lover made things much more bearable, much like life itself.

  
            They landed close to midnight at Charles de Gaulle International Airport and wasted no time there. A taxi-ride later the pair stood on the front porch of France’s apartment. The very same apartment where they had first confessed to each other, and later inhabited were they not at England’s manor.

  
            France grabbed England’s hand and dragged him inside after he had unlocked the front door. England wasted no time in finding his lover’s lips with his own and pressing their mouths together with a firm grip on France’s neck with his free hand. France kissed back with eager before he broke the kiss, panting softly. He placed a soft, feather-like kiss on England’s lips before he pulled away again.

  
            “ _Je t’aime, Angleterre_.” It was barely a whisper but contained so much emotion. Before England could say something in return, he was thrown over France’s shoulder with a yelp escaping him, and carried towards the bedroom.

  
            “You know I have to feet of my own, and I _can_ use them.”

  
            “Ah, but what would be the fun in that?” France smirked up at him before he placed the Englishman down on the edge of his bed.

  
            England took a hold of France’s hips and slowly pulled towards himself so that the other nation came closer and then ended up straddling him with both knees on the bed and sitting in his lap. Slowly, England began loosening the tie in front of his face and threading it out from around the beautifully tanned neck, all while France stared down at him with hooded eyes and a warm smile full of admiring. As he unbuttoned the cotton shirt, he placed light kisses down his hairy chest and France’s hands came to rest on his shoulders, the right coming up to pet the hair on the back of his neck.

  
            When the shirt came off, England took his time with kissing the torso while his hands stroked up and down the sides of the body. His lips found a nipple and began softly sucking at it as his hands ensnared France and pulled him closer so their groins brushed against each other and their upper bodies pressed close. Heavy pants filled the room and the occasional low moan tore through the air. He then moved his right hand down the back and gripped tight around France’s left cheek of his ass. France moaned loudly at that point and bucked his hips to grind against England.

  
            Suddenly England decided he was wearing to many clothes and his hands left France to rid himself of them. The shirt came undone and when he started on his trousers, the other nation shakenly stood off of England and began stripping as well. Both naked and erect, France reclaimed his previous position, now their erections rubbing together and making them both groan. Their lips met in a wet, hungry, and passionate kiss, hands everywhere on each other while grinding together. England’s hands went down to France’s thighs and stroked up to encircle his butt, gripping it firmly and kneading it with his fingers. France broke the kiss to moan while England continued to suck at his throat, leaving him breathless.

  
            “You’re going to leave a mark.” France breathed and closed his eyes. It was not an objection, merely a statement. England sucked more intense before he lifted his head, panting. He smirked up at the other, green eyes glinting with mischief.

  
            “Of course. I want everyone to see that you’re mine.” He raised a thick eyebrow. “So that when they see this mark, everyone will know what I did to you and just how much I love you.”

  
            France sat still a short moment to let everything sink in before he pressed England down on the bed, leaving wet kisses down his torso as he slid down from England’s thighs, stopping when his mouth reached the hard member. Without warning, he took it all in in one go, letting his warm mouth wrap around it. A strangled sound came from England and France felt a hand come up to grip tight in his golden locks. He did not move his mouth, only used his tongue to suck heavy on the dick pressing against his palate as he swallowed a few times.  He felt the thighs around him shiver and England’s shameless moans turned him on even more. His tongue swirled around the member as he bobbed his head up and down, continuing this for a few minutes.

  
            “Ah, France, France. Ah, please.” The grip in his hair tightened as France hummed and sucked once more. “I’m …” England did not get to say more before he finished in his partner’s mouth. He lay back panting on the bed as France freed his member with a slick sound, salvia running down his chin, which he dried off on the back of his hand. He came to sit by his lover on the bed, leaning down over him.

  
            “That, _mon cher_ , was me showing my appreciation for your lovely speech today.” He leant down to press a kiss on England’s mouth. England threaded his fingers in the golden locks above him and returned the kiss.

  
            “Come here.” He murmured.

  
            France moved to face him fully, but was soon thrown over on his back with England hovering over him and pressing kisses and leaving love-bites all over his throat and shoulders. One hand went to the nightstand drawer while the other spread France’s legs and took a firm grip around the strained member between them.

  
            “This, love, is me showing my appreciation for you existing.” England spoke between the kisses and began stroking him. France shivered. Not from the touch alone, but from the words spoken with love and affection as well. England really had his moments some times.

  
            The British nation had found and retrieved the bottle of lube in the drawer. He let go of France’s erection to slick his fingers before he eased one of them inside his lover. France closed his eyes and groaned softly at the intrusion. With kisses littering his body as a distraction, England began fingering him and before long he added another digit. France held a strong grip around England’s shoulders and neck, keeping them close together.

  
            When he deemed France prepared enough, England pulled away his fingers, used some more lube, and began working on his own member. He had not become fully erect yet so he needed a few strokes before he was ready to enter. Hovering over the other nation, England lined himself up and began to press forward.

  
            France moaned loudly as his partner slid inside of him, the feeling of being filled so completely making his erection even more strained. England paused when he was fully inside and leaned down to press more kisses to France’s mouth and throat, and France had to groan of pleasure when his lover began sucking on his Adam’s apple. His feet around the other’s hip tightened, pressing them flush against each other. His mind went foggy from all the attention he had received this evening, and he could barely think straight when England began moving, easing out before pushing inside again. Neither of them held anything back tonight. England’s deliberately slow and steady rhythm had France crumbling and panting heavy beneath him, fingernails digging into his back.

  
            “ _Ah_ , _Angleterre_ , please. Harder.” It felt fantastic as his prostate was being rubbed, but was not enough for the French nation to reach his finish.

  
            The island nation did not answer, but picked up his pace with more force. The bed dunked against the wall in a steady rhythm timed with the two in it. France let go completely and released all the sounds of want he could, as he clung to his lover. England was faring no better above him, his mouth still attached to France’s throat and moving against his pulse.

  
            France felt something build up in his gut and the feeling exploded when England gripped his erection once more, beginning to jerking him off in time with his thrusts. He came with a choked cry and his fingernails digging into England’s back, drawing blood, and went limp, all the tension flowing out of him. England followed right behind – France suspected he had a bit of a thing for pain. He pulled out with heavy pants and flipped over so he was lying beside the French nation on top of the covers, both of them drawing breath in deep gasps.

  
            After regaining his posture, France turned towards his companion and draped an arm over his stomach, placing kiss on his shoulder and pulling him closer.

  
            “So…?” France murmured.

  
            “So what?” Came the soft response.

  
            “So now everyone knows about us. Every single nation.”

  
            “Yes? Your point?”

  
            “What are your thoughts on it?”

  
            England turned his head and looked intently into deep blue eyes. He studied them and the face in front of him in deep concentration for a few seconds with a curious look before he spoke.

  
            “I feel… relieved. As if a burden has lifted from my shoulders. And it makes me feel confident, like I can do anything.” A grin split his face in two and small wrinkles appeared at the corner of his eyes. “I don’t care if anyone has something negative to say about it, because there is plenty of those who support it – most importantly you. As long as you are happy I don’t care what anyone has to say.”

  
            England was hugged even closer, and he turned over on his side so his whole body was facing France, their noses almost touching.

  
            “Well, right now I am _very_ happy, so you don’t have to worry about that.” France could not stop grinning as he filled the gap with a lazy kiss. He entwined their feet and moved to rest his forehead against England’s chest while his arms slipped around his waist. As he lay there breathing in the heavy air with eyes closed, he felt England’s fingers play gently with his hair. He murmured without opening his eyes.

  
            “Are you happy, _Angleterre_?”

  
            “I have never felt better, frog.” The response came in the same manner, and both of them fell asleep with a smile on their faces.

  
            The blasted thing that disturbed his pleasant slumber was an incredibly loud noise cutting through the darkness. England shut his eyes tighter and curled inwards against the body lying in front of him, his grip firming. He groaned as the horrid sound continued. The body against him moved slightly and some muffled words in French were uttered against his chest. It was too early for him to catch their meaning. Then came a louder complaining moan from the other nation.

  
            “ _Angleterre_ , go and shut the phone up.” England still refused to open his eyes.

  
            “You shut it up, it’s not _my_ phone.”

  
            “You can have it, just make it stop screaming at me.”

  
            “Just go get it yourself; I don’t even know where you keep your blasted phone.”

  
            “It’s too early in the morning and I’m too comfortable to move right now.” France held England tighter. “It’s probably in my jacket or something.”

  
            Then suddenly, the ring tone stopped and silence filled the apartment once more. Both the nations sighed loudly in relief. And then groaned when it began again only a few seconds later.

  
            “ _Angleterre, s’il vous plaît_.” France whined. But he achieved his goal as England groaned resigned and flung the covers out of the way as he moved to get up. He was however prevented from doing what he had set out to do by France hanging on to his waist. England sighed as he sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes while the phone continued to ring.

  
            “France…”

  
            “Don’t go.” The other nation’s whisper was barely audible.

  
            England scowled down at France, who still had his face buried in England’s side. He was about to complain, but realized something. His face softened slowly as he remembered all the mornings he had quietly slipped out of the other’s bed before he even was awake, to leave and pretend that all of it had never happened.

  
            “Don’t worry, love, I’ll be right back.” He leant down to press a kiss to the tousled bed-head by his side before he freed himself of the captivity that was France’s arms and rose from the bed. “Now where’s the bloody phone?” He growled to himself.

  
            After following the sound around the room, he founds France’s jacket close to the door, lying on the floor. England lifted it up and found the phone in the left pocket after a quick search. Looking at the screen, he saw who the caller was and sighed deeply before he answered as he made his way back to the bed. France was sprawled out on it, looking no more awake than before he had left.

  
            “Hello, what do you want, America?” His voice was still hoarse from the sleep so he had to clear his voice before he continued.

  
            “ _Hey, England! How’s it going, dude?”_

  
            England winced from the loud voice emitting from the blasted device. At that moment he wondered if the ring tone not was a more favourable sound. He just stared at the phone for a few seconds before throwing it at his companion still in bed.

  
            “France, wake up, it’s for you.” He turned around to go fetch his own phone instead. From the bed he heard a yelp as the device presumable hit France somewhere painful and a weak _‘Ello_ as he answered the American. Fishing his own phone out of his disregarded trousers, he slumped down on the bed next to his lover again, who now sat leant against the headboard.

  
            “Hang on, _Amérique_ , I will put you on speaker.”

  
            “Please don’t.”

  
            France leant into his side and held to phone up in front of him as he whispered.

  
            “Which button do I click on?”

  
            “Mm, _that_ one.”

  
            “ _Merci_.”

  
            France clicked on the speaker-mark and soon a loud voice filled the room.

  
            “ _Hey again, England!_ ”

  
            “Hello, America.” England answered with an unimpressed look on his face.

  
            “ _I wanted to call earlier, but Canada made me wait till now._ ” England glanced at the digits on the screen: it was barely nine o’clock – ten in Greece. “ _Oh, that’s right, Canada’s here too!_ ”

  
            “ _Hello, France, England. How are you doing_?” A small voice came from the phone. At least one of them was not as unpleasant to talk to in the mornings.

  
            “ _Bonjour, Canada_. We are both very well, how about you? Still in Athens?” France smirked at England and carefully placed an arm around his shoulders. England raised an eyebrow but still leant into the touch.

  
            “ _Yes, in the same hotel as Belgium and her brothers actually. We took a cab here with them from the meeting last night._ ” The pair in the bed sneered smugly to each other before America cut in.

  
            “ _Yeah, I think maybe I saw Lithuania and Poland down the halls here too, but that’s not what we were calling for!_ ”

  
            “Yes, why exactly _are_ you calling? You have yet to explain the reason you woke us up at this hour of the day.”

  
            “ _Dude, isn’t it obvious?_ ”

  
            England scowled down at the phone.

  
            “Not particularly, no.”

  
            “ _To congratulate you of course! We didn’t get to speak to you at all yesterday._ ”

  
            “ _Yes, I thought that was a very sweet speech you gave last night, England. So congratulations to the both of you. Seychelles’ wish you luck as well._ ”

  
            France glanced over to England, seeing him staring stiffly at the phone, steadily growing redder, and obviously embarrassed as he remembered last evening’s event. He chuckled and pulled him closer as he took it upon him to answer.

  
            “Thank you, boys, that’s very considerate of you. We’ll be sure to thank Seychelles later. Did we miss anything important at the meeting that happened after we left?”

  
            “ _Not much, almost everyone was just too busy talking about you two to bother to pay attention anyway. You should have seen the look on Germany’s face!_ ” Loud laughter rolled into the room. “ _Man, he was trying_ so hard _to get everyone to focus. He’s probably mad at you for that, hah._ ”

  
            “ _And then, when America got into a fight_ _with Russia, he called it quits so the meeting got cut short. I think Veneziano managed to cheer him up a bit before they left though, so maybe he won’t be_ that _angry with you._ ”

  
            “Ah, I’m sure he just needs some more love.” France smiled. “So are you two going return home today or are you staying longer?”

  
            “ _Nah, it gets too boring with the paperwork at home so we decided to take a few days off here before we go back. We’re going to a restaurant with Belgium and the others tonight, and maybe we’ll invite Lithuania and Poland out tomorrow if we run into them._ ”

  
            “That is nice to hear, I’m sure it will be enjoyable.”

  
            “ _How about you? What are you going to do today_?” Canada asked politely.

  
            “Oh, nothing planned,” France grinned smugly and eyed England, who seemed to have regained his wits and were now paying attention to the conversation. “Probably just stay in bed all day.”

  
            “Oh, are we really?” England commented mockingly.

  
            “Mm, I wouldn’t have anything against it.” France murmured as he leant in to place a slow kiss on his partner’s mouth, lips moving against each other. The response told him England maybe wasn’t so opposed to the idea himself. However, an interruption came from the phone.

  
            “ _Are… are you kissing right now_?”

  
            “Of course not!” England put a hand over France’s face and shoved him away not particularly rough. France huffed and his shoulders slumped. 

  
            “ _I think we’ll just leave them be for now, America. They probably have other things to think about right now._ ”

  
            “ _Yeah, I’m sure they do._ ” There was a slight pause before he resumed. “ _You can’t see it, but I’m winking at Canada right now. Anyway; good luck or something, and we’ll see you again later. Bye!_ ”

  
            “ _Goodbye-_ ” Canada was cut short as America presumably hung up on them.

  
            England let out a relieved sigh as he retrieved his own phone from his lap and began looking through it. France did the same while starting a conversation, his arm still around the other nation.

  
            “It was a very nice speech though.”

  
            “Argh, please: don’t remind me. I can’t believe I said all of those things in front of everyone! What is wrong with me?” England groaned and hid his face behind his hands.

  
            “That’s love, _cher_.” France pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder. “And it was very romantic you know.”

  
            “Well you better cherish it, because it will never happen again!”

  
            “Oh, you never know.” He grinned slyly. “But I think most of them got the message you were trying to convey.”

  
            England lifted his head to give a tired and unimpressed glare to his lover.

  
            “Shut up. It’s bad enough that I got all these texts, I don’t need you teasing me for it as well.” He muttered the words, clearly trying to pout.

  
            “Hmm? What messages? Let me see!” France eagerly snatched the phone out of his hands and scrolled through the newly arrived messages, finding quite a few of them. England grunted disinterested from his side.

  
            “They’re mocking me. Next thing you know; Germany will be sending us flowers.” He stared blankly ahead for a few seconds before his eyes widened in realization and he spoke quietly. “That actually sounds like something he would do. Fuck, I should never have said anything.”

  
            France chuckled as he read through the text messages.

  
            “I don’t understand what you’re talking about, there’s only nice wishes and congratulatory messages here. Look; here’s from Japan, and there’s from Norway, with greetings from the other Nordics as well, and here’s even Hong Kong, Australia and New Zealand. It’s from all your friends, even Portugal, Netherlands, Belgium, and China.” France pouted “I wish _I_ got all these nice wishes.”

  
            “You probably have. The rest of the world probably sent you a text.”

  
            “Ah! You are right, here they are.”

  
            France scrolled through his own phone for a while with a big grin plastered on his face. England felt his heart swell at the sight and smiled softly to himself as he studied the other. His hair was still tousled from the sleep, but still had that beautiful shine to it. His own phone lay forgotten in his lap while he was busy loosing himself in the perfect nation in front of him. Of course he had his faults, but to England, he was perfect. England was brought back to reality by France addressing him.

  
            “ _Angleterre_ , look at this.”

  
            “Hmm, what?” England leant closer to take a good look at the phone in front of him.

  
            “ _Espagne_ sent me a link to _Prusse_ ’s blog, and look! There’s the picture of us!” England grabbed the phone from his hands and stared intently at the screen as he muttered a few curses.

  
            “Bloody hell… is that…?”

  
            “I think that’s a boner, yes.”

  
            “Fucking… shit.”

  
            “Relax, you can barely see it through your trousers. If it makes you feel better, I had one as well at that point.”

  
            “… what does the text say?”

  
            “Err, that’s _not_ tha-” France was cut off by England reading out loud.

  
            “ _Finally! After centuries of pining for each other, these fuckers finally decided to get the sticks out of their asses and do something about it._ Huh, fucker. _Out of sheer awesomeness I will tell you guys the secret that the couple already have been together for several months now, after a period where they fucked on a regular basis. After meeting and conferences the pair would go drinking and have their fun, then act like nothing afterwards. Not kidding: France would be moping around for days after, over his unrequited love for England. No doubt that was his favourite conversation topic most of the time. Spain and I told him multiple times to just confess or something if it caused him so much pain. But of course the coward never dared to speak up about it. Even though we could all clearly see England was as lost as our friend. (Am I right or what?). In the end, England supposedly confessed while he was drunk after one of their fucks. Not the most romantic confession you could imagine, but I guess he made up for that tonight right? Despite everything, I’m happy for our newest couple, and can only hope they make each other more bearable to be with._ ” England stared blankly at the phone, trying to wrap his head around what was written there. “France…”

  
            “Yes, I’m sorry, but you remember when _Prusse_ and _Allemagne_ met us the day after and _Prusse_ saw you were wearing my clothes and he knew about the whole thing between us, so of course he would know, and also Spain might have known something about it. I swear I did not plan to tell them, but they are my friends and they worry about me, and I perhaps wanted to share my happiness,” France fidgeted with the covers while he ranted in a nervous manner.

  
            “You _did_ tell them about us fucking.” England still sat staring at the phone. He had been worried about that particular subject all the time while they had their “affair”. That France would go bragging to his friends about it after they had fucked – but still he continued to see him. Even though he was certain the three friends would sit together and laugh at him and how naïve he was afterwards. That thought had completely slipped his mind after he and France actually gotten together, and now he realized that although it might have been justified, it was utterly unfounded. France had not bragged to his friends; he had been complaining about his heartache. Because France had been in love with him for a long time. He had broken his own heart over and over again, just to be with _him_. And now he was worried England would be angry because Prussia and Spain had known. Okay, so England _was_ a bit angry, but mostly because Prussia posted that text on his blog for everyone to see, not because of anything France had done.

  
            “Ah… _oui,_ I did.” France looked down to the side and began removing his arm from around England’s shoulders. “ _Angleterre,_ I-”

  
            “France, just- err… it’s all right, I mean…” England brought his hand up to scratch the back of his head. He could feel his cheeks burn. “Just kiss me, fucker.”

  
            France sat still, not saying a word, and staring at England, who was looking everywhere but at him. Hesitantly, he leant in, using the arm previously around his lover to support himself on the headboard. He carefully placed a soft kiss on England’s cheek, close to the corner of his mouth. Using his other hand, France cupped England face and turned his head. Their eyes met and they stared into the other’s for a few seconds before England shut his and closed the small distance between them. His hand came up to trace over France’s jaw, over the stubble, and up into his hair where it tangled and he tugged slightly as the kiss deepened. When they broke apart, England hid his face in the crook of France’s neck and hugged him tight around the ribcage as he laid them down on the bed, France beneath him.

  
            “I love you, France.” England felt the other’s arms tighten around him, and France whispered back.

  
            “ _Je t’aime, Angleterre_.” France brought one hand up to tenderly caress England’s head. “So much…”

  
            The two of them lay there silently for a while, just breathing in the scent of the other and occasionally leaving a few kisses or caresses over the other’s body.

  
            “ _Angleterre_?”

  
            “Hm?”

  
            “Let’s go see a football match together.”

  
            England smiled warmly into France’s shoulder.

  
            “Sure. I’m going to win the championship, though.”

  
            “Hah! Don’t make me laugh. You know you never get far in championships. _I_ however, have full faith in my team this year, and I’m _completely_ confident I will be the European champion, just you wait and see.”

  
            “Pfft, as if! I’ll believe it when I see it. And are you saying my team is bad?”

  
            “Well… not _bad_. You did make it past the Group Play, but you’ll have no chance now. The strongest teams by far is myself, Germany, and Italy, so just give up now, _rosbif_.”

  
            “Fuck you! I will win over Iceland and then I’ll beat you in the Quarter Final, just wait and see!”

  
            “If you do, I will personally take you out wherever you wish to go.”

  
            “Pardon, but I fail to see how that is a loss for you.”

  
            “Mm, never said it was. Objection?”

  
            “… no.”

  
            “Then what will you do for me if I win over you or you lose against Iceland?”

  
            “… whatever you want.” 

            “I better start planning then.”

  
            “Frog! I won’t lose, don’t just assume I’ll lose!”

  
            “Whatever you say, _cher_.” France winked at him and grinned widely, small wrinkles appeared in the corner of his eyes. England lifted his head and was just taken aback by the sheer wonder that seemed to light up the room. Trying to stay stern – and failing completely – he leant down and engaged France in a kiss, while muttering a few curses. France just laughed and kissed back, hugging the other tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course I would not finish this fic without England topping. For me, the equality in their relationship is very important.  
> And for those who don't know (or don't care) about the EC: England lost the match against Iceland and France lost in the finale, after beating Germany, against Portugal.  
> Comments and thoughts about the story is very welcome. If it's just small details you noticed or if you want to discuss anything I'd love to hear both. (Or it could be something else). Kudos are lovely as well.   
> It's funny though: with three extra chapters this fic is almost twice the sice it was originally supposed to be, and still I could produce more to this story. (But I won't unless someone feel it's worth it. Feel like I should quit while I'm on top of this).  
> Thanks for reading. :)


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